


Challenge Two: TFLN

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, mating games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 79,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the entries for week two of the Mating Games pornathon challenge on LJ.</p><p>For details on what this challenge is: <a href="http://mating-games.livejournal.com/504.html">FAQ on LJ</a></p><p>If you'd like to vote for any of these, you are welcome to even if you aren't a participant in this challenge. You can read how to vote and cast your votes here: <a href="http://mating-games.livejournal.com/5517.html">Voting Post!</a></p><p>In this challenge, teams are already set so we aren't taking any new writers/artists, but you are welcome to participate as a reader/voter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group A (with warnings)

**1**

**Pairings:** Chris Argent/Danny  
 **Warning:** Implied infidelity, age disparity, possible underage, public sex, rough sex and crying during sex. (HAHAHAHA.)  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://tfl.nu/j8o0

He doesn't know it's Allison's dad, okay?

Well, _not for sure_ because it's dark—but that's a pretty shit excuse, even for him.

But he's so fucking hot that it's hard to think about anything else. It's a club three towns over, so it's not like Danny is thinking _holy shit, that's Allison's dad_ but he'd be lying if he said he didn't have some vague inclination. Then again, Danny's sure there were a lot of thoughts in his mind before Mr. Argent ground his crotch into Danny's ass and he realized what he was dealing with here.

"Oh god," he moans, because he's a realist and Mr. Argent smiles against his neck like he knows the score.

By the time they're in the bathroom, Danny can't really make morally important decisions. All he's thinking about is how the man who is about get with him has a ten inch dick and Danny is the luckiest bastard in the entire state of California right now.

"Gonna put you on your knees and fuck that pretty, young mouth," Argent is saying, cupping a brutal hand to his clothed dick but Danny moans a protest.

"No, god—that, no," he says and Argent pauses. Danny scrambles to push back, feeling the hot grind of Argent's dick and yeah—he's basically made up his mind.

When he spins around, he makes sure to look Allison Argent's dad right in the eyes when he says, "I want it to _hurt_ ," and grins.

The smile he gets in return is almost enough to make him come in his pants.

It's an ugly scramble to get half undressed and Argent—fuck, Danny doesn't even know his _name_ —keeps putting his teeth around Danny's tits and bitting. But eventually Danny's face is pressed against the stall of the bathroom, his dignity somewhere around his ankles while Argent works three fingers into his ass.

There is not enough lube in the world to make him ready for that dick but they try.

"Oh fuck," Danny whines, panicky when the head forces itself into his ass. He's really thick, long and jesusfuck, he's totally gonna cry on this dude's dick and it's gonna be the best thing that's happened to him since his fake ID.

"Look at you take it," Argent says and Danny does, just lets him force his cock inside until he's being split open in the best way. Argent gnaws on his neck when he's fully seated and Danny sobs. It's really big and it fucking hurts but he can't stop—he doesn't want anything more than to be fucked absolutely unconscious.

Which is exactly what Argent does. With goddamn enthusiasm.

"You're such a slut for it," Argent says. "God, look at your tight hole."

Danny does start crying when he feels fingers trace the stretched rim of his ass, but Argent seems totally into the choked off sobs because he just keeps giving it to Danny.

"There you go babe, you're doing so well," he murmurs but Danny can barely hear it. His entire world is focused on the pleasure shooting painful spikes everywhere. There isn't even a hand on his dick because yeah, if you're gonna fuck someone this hard, you'd need both hands but god—what an absolute bastard.

Danny comes regardless, tears streaming down his face as he gasps, grinding back on an assful of cock.

But Argent doesn't stop. He fucks him until Danny is whimpering, the only thing holding him up is the blunt imprint of Argent's teeth and his dick. It's amazing. It's morally horrid but Danny doesn't care because Argent growls, his thrusts speed up and Danny swears he comes again dry it feels so good to be hammered that well.

When Argent finally comes, it's with a soft, "There you go babe," like he's doing Danny a favor.

Afterward, Argent kisses him a few times but Danny isn't really with it. He notices Argent's smug smile and when he wipes Danny down, what a gentleman, he pulls a little at the fucked out rim like it's a goodbye kiss.

Two weeks later Jackson sends him this text:
    I really think Allison's dad just walks around with tennis balls in his pocket. No dick is that big

Sure, there's shame and humiliation and that holyfuck moment when he remembers just how awesome it was to get fucked by their friend's totally still married dad but mostly he just laughs and cracks up at his life.

Like, what could be more cliché?

**2**

**Pairings:** girl!Stiles/Derek  
 **Warning:** always a girl Stiles  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49165.html

"Are you hard?" Stiles blurted out after ten seconds of inner battle to keep silent.

"Surprisingly, Star Trek doesn't get me going, " Derek answered, rolling his eyes and turning back to the TV.

They were on Stiles' bed watching the only thing decent at four am. She stopped paying attention when the first red shirt died a tragically inevitable death. Far more interesting was the tidy bulge in Derek's sweatpants right between his legs. They were pressed tight together, she could hear his heartbeat and smell her shampoo on him.

It might actually have been the first time since the Alpha pack they'd had a quiet moment together. Stiles hated to miss an opportunity to assuage her curiosity.

"So, this is just you?" Stiles asked, slipping down Derek's chest and tracing a finger along the jut of his hip bone. "Au natural, if you will?"

"Is this going somewhere?" Derek shifted, and put his big hand on the back of her neck.

"I wanted, I thought maybe - can I?" Stiles let the words tumble out of her mouth. He'd popped her cherry pretty spectacularly, but she hadn't had the chance to really savor the moment. It wasn't like she'd rolled around with a lot of naked men before.

He studied her with the same expression he used for particularly puzzling pieces of raw bunny. She was ready to call it off when he parted his legs and started watching the episode again. "Go on if you want, but it's not like it's the first time you've seen it," Derek said.

"The first time we're not covered in blood or avoiding family and betas," Stiles muttered, hiding in his chest. She took a deep breath and dropped her hand to cup his crotch.

She didn't use any pressure, but could feel the heat of him plainly on her palm. Her hand wasn't big enough to hold his balls too, so she twisted her fingers around them and rubbed back up the inside of his thighs. His muscles were always hard, this time there was some other kind of tension that kept him wound tight. His stomach jumped when she slid his sweatpants down.

"What brought this up?" Derek asked, lifting his hips to help her.

"You know, Star Trek doesn't adequately answer all the questions that I have about alien genitalia," Stiles teased, her lips brushed the wiry hair trailing from his bellybutton. She smiled at his shiver. Even without being hard, he was thick, and her own belly tingled at the memory of him.

"Werewolf not alien," he said, grumbling.

"Says the man who grows a giant knot at the base of his dick," she said as she gently scratched her bitten off nub of a fingernail between his balls and around where his knot would form if he hadn't already spent a satisfying half hour tied inside her.

Derek tugged her hair until she looked, and then bared his teeth. "Werewolf," he repeated, "not man."

"Don't be such a dramawolf," Stiles scolded, while inside doing a fist pump for coining a new nickname Derek would hate yet tolerate. "Either way you're mine, and I wanna see the goods."

He was harder when she looked back at his lap. She thought about teasing him for getting turned on by arguing, but she could feel his chest moving heavier. She did that. She was the reason his dick filled and leaned in toward her. A piece of him he couldn't always control that wanted her out of everyone.

"I love your dick," Stiles said, knowing the blush would stain down her chest. "I love when we're together and someone moves just right so I can feel it without being a big deal. It's like somehow you trust me that much."

"I trust you with everything," Derek said.

He tangled his fingers with hers and showed her how he liked it. The tight squeeze on the upstroke and the tease of nails on the way down. He let her look and taste, watch as he leaked and leave feather light kisses on his skin. Stiles took him in her mouth and watched him bite his lip bloody as he came down her throat.

Her gag reflex, however, kind of broke the mood.

Derek fought a grin as she slunk from the bathroom. He held his arms open and waited until she settled against him before he said, "And they say romance is dead."

**3**

**Pairings:** Scott/Isaac/Stiles/Allison  
 **Warning:** dubcon (sex pollen), semi-public sex, some embarrassment  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48618.html

“You should arch your back more,” Stiles says. He rubs his cheek absently against the backrest of the driver’s seat and squints at where Scott is crouched in the dark back of the Jeep.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scott says on an exhale. It’s the first thing Stiles has said in a hour. An _hour_. Scott feels himself tensing up and sucks in air, trying to relax around Isaac’s dick in his ass. He shifts on his hands and knees, spreading his fingers against the floorboards.

Allison’s head appears between the seats.

“Scott.”

“Lie back down; everything’s fine,” Scott says.

“But I…I feel….” She twitches into a full-body shiver. She has her hand down her jeans; Scott can smell it.

“I know. I’ll get to you in a minute.” He jumps a little when he feels teeth graze the top of his spine.

“Stiles is turned on, too.” Allison jabs Stiles in the eye in her attempt to point at him. Stiles barely responds, just lets his head loll sideways, eyelids drooping.

“I know, Allison—”

Just then, his phone lights up between his hands, and Scott breathes a sigh of relief when he reads Derek’s text. _Were you near the dust storm?_

He types out a reply with shaking fingers. _Yes. We all inhaled it. What do we do._

“I have an idea,” Allison proclaims, sitting up straight. “What if. What if Stiles and I did things together.”

Scott opens his mouth to respond, but Isaac chooses that moment to shift his weight, dropping into an accidental grind against Scott’s prostate, and Scott has to drop his head and breathe.

The dust storm had been a blinding, sulfur-colored assault the moment they crossed into the witch’s territory. Stiles had pulled over and they’d quickly rolled up the windows, but it was too late. It was like the full moon, all hot sensation shooting through his legs and hands and balls, and by the time Scott’s head had cleared enough to notice that the storm had subsided, he was bent over in the back of the Jeep, an open tub of Vaseline stuck in the mesh of a lacrosse stick near his hip, and Isaac was fucking into him from the rear doorway.

Stiles’ head drops off the headrest and out of Scott’s sight.

“Stiles?” Scott says loudly. “You okay, buddy? Allison, check on him.”

She prods him. “He’s unconscious.”

“Okay,” Scott says, trying to think. “Okay, maybe you should do something to him. I think the sex helps. It’s helping, right, Isaac?”

“It’s helping,” Isaac says tightly.

“So blow him?” Allison asks.

Scott shakes his head, unsure. His phone flashes again with a new text. Derek’s super helpful advice is: _Go to Deaton’s._

Scott can’t help it; the claw on his thumb goes straight through the screen, and his phone blinks and dies. “God _damn_ it.”

What would Scott have told him? _Actually we stopped the Jeep and went behind it and fucked. With Stiles and Allison there. On the side of the road. As cars drove by._

Scott stills and pulls himself together. The fact is, Stiles’ breath is stuttering, and Allison is shaking almost constantly. They need help, and soon, or who knows what could happen to them?

The thought makes him sets his jaw. He starts fucking back onto Isaac’s dick.

“Scott?”

“Yeah, yeah, blow him.”

Scott doesn’t see Allison’s mouth close around Stiles’ dick, but he knows it happens when Stiles’ eyes pop open on a gasp.

“It’s okay,” Scott says. He goes up on his knees as much as he can, leaning back into Isaac. “You’re okay, Stiles. Allison’s taking care of you.”

Stiles blinks, taking this in. Scott can see Allison’s shoulders bob in the gap between the seats. There’s a long moment filled with nothing but wet, fleshy sounds.

“You’re leaking,” Stiles remarks some time later, and to Scott’s embarrassment, Allison pulls back to see for herself. A line of sweat trickles from Scott’s bellybutton, and a sticky ribbon of precome waves like a banner as his dick and balls bounce in time to Isaac’s thrusts, all of it exposed to their view.

“I’m sorry,” Scott says, “It’s—”

“So hot,” Allison says in a tiny voice. She and Stiles both stare at him, helpless, while Isaac whines and bucks against his back.

Some protective instinct wells up in Scott’s throat.

“You’re all going to be okay,” Scott promises, right before he comes in pearly streaks across the lacrosse equipment.

 

**4**

**Pairings** : Jackson/Lydia/Danny  
 **Warnings** : slight d/s themes  
 **Link to text chosen** : http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-1842.html

“The redhead has a boyfriend.” Danny mentions offhandedly.

“Just because there’s a goalie, doesn’t mean you can’t score.” Jackson replies with a trademark smirk.

Danny snickers and already knows who they’ll be taking home tonight. It’s not often Jackson’s charms are refused and he doubts Lydia will be any different. **~*~*~*~**

An unbidden oan falls from Danny’s lips as Lydia relaxes her jaw and takes his cock all the way down her throat, swallowing around him like a pro. With practiced ease she pulls back, swirls her tongue in his slit and around the head before deep throating hi again. His eyes lock on to Jackson’s own. He’s behind Lydia, hands gripping her hips to keep steady as he thrusts into her from behind. He gives Danny a smirk before turning his attention back to Lydia.

“You’re such a little cock slut, aren’t you princess?” Jackson gathers her hair in one hand and pulls. She stills under his touch, lips going slack around Danny’s cock. “Aren’t you?” Jackson asks again and pulls until she releases Danny’s cock from her mouth with an obscene pop. “Say it.”

There’s only the slap-slap of skin in response, Lydia’s breasts swaying underneath her with each powerful thrust. Knowing where this is going, Danny takes his cock in hand and races over Lydia’s swollen lips. She attempts to suck him in again, but he pulls away.

“Not until you say it.” Jackson speaks for him.

Danny smiles and lets his cock slap against the side of her face. Lydia’s eyes light up with fury, but Danny doesn’t miss the way her back arches, how her fingers dig into the sheets or how she sees to push back onto Jackson’s cock just a little bit harder. So he does it again and again, his own need coiling tighter with each slap of his sensitive cock against her cheek.

“Just say it sweetheart.” Danny says as he traces her lips again, letting a drop o precu all into her slightly parted mouth. Her whole body shakes in submission as she whispers, “I’m a cockslut.”

“Louder.” Jackson commands. The power in his voice makes Danny’s own skin crawl. The things he would do because of that voice.

“I’m a cockslut!” Lydia all but shouts.

“Yes you are, and we’re going to take very good care of you.” Danny says evenly. He threads his fingers through her long auburn locks and slowly feeds her his cock. She moans around him and the vibrations travel up and down his spine, ending in the tip of his dick and making him throb with the need for release.

He fucks her mouth slowly, taking the time to enjoy the choked sounds every time he hits the back of her throat, the saliva that drips down his cock and onto his balls.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last Jax.”

“You will.”

He whimpers in protest, but he obeys, biting his lip and digging his fingers into Lydia’s scalp. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jackson reaching to the lube and relief swells through him. Sometimes Jackson makes him wait until he’s sobbing to get on with it.

Danny forces himself to keep his eyes open and watch as Jackson spreads lube over Lydia’s asshole and push in two fingers. Lydia bucks her hips wildly and chokes around Danny in response.

“Shh.” Danny murmurs and runs a hand along the smooth expanse of her back. Jackson’s fingers disappear inside her lithe body, in and out, getting her ready for him. His cock pulses at the idea and Lydia is quick to swallow him down again, lapping at the precome and running a flattened tongue on the underside of the head.

“Please.” Danny moans through gritted teeth.

“So impatient.” Jackson reprimands, but he does pull out of her. “Come on then.”

Jackson pulls her back so Danny can lie down underneath her. Jackson guides her to flip over and straddle Danny’s hips in a reverse cowgirl. Danny holds his breath as she sinks down on him, cock filling up her ass. Once he’s fully seated she leans back and Danny can feel Jackson’s cock sliding so close to his, entering her pussy from on top.

They thrust in unison and just when it’s too much he hears Jackson say “Come for me.”

Lydia falls apart on top of him and he finally lets go, coming for what feels like forever.

****

******5** ** **

**Pairings: Peter/Stiles  
** **Warning:** -  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://tfl.nu/6ru3

When they arrived, just two weeks into his summer break from college, Stiles wasn’t sure he shouldn’t just return them right away and save himself the embarrassment of someone finding them in his possession.

But curiosity always got the better of him, so he opened the box. Stiles is honest enough to admit, that he spent about ten minutes just staring at the things; the metal and the elegant chain was all shiny, and the little red rhinestones decorating it broke the light in a really fucking pretty way.

So, in the end he kept them. It wasn’t like anyone had a habit of creeping into his room - except for maybe Peter, but since they got to third base and beyond, the guy usually only came when he was home.

Okay, so he was naive.

He assumed, that Peter didn’t sneak into his room anymore, but apparently never catching him didn’t mean that was the case.

So naturally when he got home from dinner at the station with his dad, he nearly had a heart attack when he stepped into his room to find his boyfriend - okay, that sounded stupid in connection to Peter... manfriend? whatever - lounging on the bed, with the damned things dangling from his fingers.

“Want to tell me something, Stiles?”

“What the... How? No, why...?”

“Imagine my surprise when I dropped by, and instead of your delicious self, I found these little bauties just lying around...”

Now _that_ managed to get Stiles talking.

“Lying around? Seriously? They were in a paper bag that was in a little box that was in a shoebox that was in the back of my closet. What the hell are you doing sniffing around my stuff? And to think that I almost started easing up on the dog-jokes!”

Peter stood up and was across the room in a second, moving with the grace of a predator zeroing on tonight’s dinner. He pushed Stiles up against the wall, and rested one end of the chain at the base of the boy’s neck.

Stiles couldn’t help but swallow when he felt the cold of the metal clamp on his skin and Peter smirked in victory.

“Stiles, Stiles, Stiles... Here I am, being all gentle and patient, intent on giving you time to explore sensuality at your own pace...”

The boy had to chuckle breathlessly at that, I mean, seriously; Peter and gentle? He had the finger shaped bruises on his hips to shove how ridiculous that notion was. Not like he was complaining.

He didn’t have the chance to voice any of that though, because Peter was biting at his throat with enough force to make him lose all illusions of coherence. He was deftly peeled out of his shirt and by the time his back hit the bed his jeans were gone too.

Peter - the bastard - was still fully dressed of course; it was some kind of serious power trip for him... and he climbed on top of Stiles quickly.

When the older man loosened his belt buckle, Stiles was pretty sure that things were looking up, except that the next thing he knew, his hands were fastened to the headboard, and Peter was examining the closing mechanism of the nipple clamps.

Oh, god.

***

Scott was just about to get ready for bed when he heard his phone beep with a text from Stiles. He probably wanted to get drunk again, even though he made Scott promise that next time he will keep Stiles away from webshops.

You know.... I ordered the nipple clamps when I was drunk. But on further consideration, THANKS DRUNK ME I LIKE WHATS HAPPENING

******6** ** **

****Pairings:** Danny/Stiles  
 **Warning:** Nada  
 **Link to text chosen:**** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48995.html

 ******Title:****** Irony: Thy Name is Closet Sex

“You wore these pants on purpose. I know you did.” Stiles lets his hands wander over the stretched tight jeans that cover Danny’s ass and squeezes when Danny sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “You know they give me a boner.”

Danny hums noncommittally around Stiles’ tongue and drags him impossibly closer by his belt loops. Stiles’ hips grind forward of their own volition, pressing their hard, jeans-covered cocks together in a slow drag that has Stiles panting.

“You are evil, Danny Mahealani.”

“You love me that way.”

Stiles shivers and pushes his hands into the back of Danny’s pants, frantically pushing them and his boxer briefs down to expose his cock, unwilling to extend their impromptu make out session any longer. “Fuck, you know I do.” Stiles drops down to his knees and breathes against the long length of Danny’s hard prick. “Let me show you how much.”

Stiles sinks his mouth all the way down over Danny’s cock, hands gripping and kneading his thighs. He loves sucking Danny off. He wasn’t always so good at it, with a terrible gag reflex and too much uncertainty about his skills to really give everything he had. But over the years, Stiles has adjusted to the thick, hard member in his mouth, the way it stretches his lips thin and tight over the sensitive flesh and he revels in the sounds that Danny makes when he dips his tongue into the slit, tasting.

When Stiles hums around his cock, Danny makes a choked off noise in the back of his throat and no. No, no. That won’t do. He knows Danny is trying to be quiet, knows that everyone in the Hale house can _hear_ what is going on if they’re paying close enough attention (and even if they aren’t), but Stiles needs to hear _all_ of Danny’s noises, whimpers, gasps and groans. Danny laughs at him and tells him he doesn’t need anymore encouragement, but really, they just turn Stiles on.

Stiles grips Danny’s thighs harder in a warning and pulls back off his prick. “Let me hear you,” he says, voice gravelly and rough. Sexed, Danny calls it.

Danny’s head bangs back against the door. “They’ll hear.”

Stiles smirks and nods. “I know,” he breathes out. “It turns me on knowing they can hear us in here. It makes me hot them knowing how much you love my mouth on your cock. Let me hear you.” Stiles licks at Danny’s slit and then wraps his lips around the head. He sucks hard, causing Danny to gasp, and then pulls off with a wet pop. Danny whimpers. “Let me hear you,” Stiles says again and then sinks down onto Danny’s cock once more.

When Danny bites down on his groan, Stiles takes it as a challenge. He frees one hand from digging finger-shaped bruises into Danny’s thigh to slip it behind him, letting the pad of his middle finger flutter over Danny’s hole. When Danny bangs his head against the door again, but doesn’t make a sound, Stiles opens his throat and swallows around the head. Danny bites off his moan even though Stiles can see how red his face is, how his chest heaves, how _hard_ it is for him to keep it in.

Stiles wants the noises. Needs them. Stiles uses his other hand to massage Danny’s balls and then slides the the tip of his finger inside Danny with a dry drag.

That’s all it takes to push Danny over the edge, spilling into Stiles mouth, and making the most obscene sounding keen Stiles has ever heard. Stiles, victorious, swallows down everything Danny gives him and then pulls back to press a sweet kiss to his slit.

Danny falls to his knees then, kisses Stiles messily while he digs his hand inside of Stiles jeans and brings him off in record time. Stiles has no problem groaning loudly and slipping out a, “Holy fuck, Danny. Yesssss,” loud enough that he knows even the humans heard. He imagines how it’ll make Danny blush later and that’s enough for him.

Later, Scott comes over to Stiles but can’t meet his gaze.

“What?” Stiles finally asks.

Scott shakes his head. “Nothing, man.” He’s uncomfortable and it makes Stiles grin.

He nudges up against Scott’s side and says cockily, “Don’t act like you’re not jealous that I disappeared into the closet to blow my husband. Marriage equals all the cock I want.”

Scott’s shocked, “Dude! Seriously?” is deeply satisfying.

 

******7** ** **

****Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** None  
 **Link to text chosen:**** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-47789.html

_I have this terrible fear I might accidentally text a pic of my dick to my grandma_

_dude, your grandma's dead_

_oh, yeah. well. maybe my dad then? his numbers right next to it._

_who are you texting dick pics to?_

...

_stiles?_

...

_Stiles???_

...

_shit the only person you know whose name begins with 'd' is derek_

...

_stiles, pls say I'm wrong_

...

_stiles????_

...

_why are you sending dick pics to derek????_

...

_unless you have danny's number_

...

_but you don't, do you???_

...

_i'd be totally ok if it was danny. danny's a great guy_

...

_stiles, txt back, pls don't fuck derek_

...

_STILES_

...

_fuck._

*

He doesn't hear Derek come into his room, but that's nothing new.

"Stiles," Derek says, quiet and serious. Stiles jumps in his desk chair, flailing and falling to the ground.

" _Dude_ , not cool! Warn a guy."

Derek sinks down onto Stiles's bed. "You wouldn't happen to know why Scott keeps frantically texting me telling me not to fuck you. Would you?"

Stiles chokes. "Oh my god, I can't believe he actually text you."

"How did he even..." Derek makes a complicated eyebrow dance that Stiles thinks means, 'know we're fucking'.

"Dude, I didn't tell him. Not exactly."

"Stiles..." Derek says, warningly.

"I just told him I was worried I was going to accidentally send a dick shot to my dad one of these days. He might have slightly got the idea from there. You should see his texts though, they're hilarious."

Derek doesn't say anything.

Stiles walks over to stand between Derek's knees, dropping his arms over Derek's shoulder and loving the way Derek has to look up to him. "What's up, alpha, my alpha?" Stiles asks, tone light and teasing.

"I thought you didn't want them to know..." Derek answers, as Stiles runs a hand through his hair, Derek leaning into the touch.

"Mmm, I never said that."

Derek settles his hands on Stiles's ass. "I thought...."

Stiles pushes and Derek lets himself fall back onto the bed, legs still dangling over the side. Stiles crawls on top of him until he's straddling Derek's hips, ass resting against the hard press of Derek's cock.

"Love it when you're already hard for me," Stiles murmurs, leaning down and finally kissing him.

He loves the scrap of Derek's stubble, the press of Derek beneath him. He loves knowing that Derek is this ready for him. Derek wants him this much. "Stiles..."

"Why in the world would I not want people knowing you're mine?" Stiles doesn't have patience, but the thing is, neither does Derek. Derek who's already managed to slip a hand down the back of Stiles jeans, into his underwear and is grasping his ass.

He rubs his cock against Dereks, through the layers of material and feels Derek buck up against him. Riding Derek is like riding a force of fucking nature, he loves that Derek for all his strength and power is happy to let Stiles push him around.

"Mmm, got a surprise for you," Stiles teases before he runs his teeth along Derek's jaw, scraping the stubble, feeling Derek shudder.

"Don't like surprises," Derek mutters hand moving from Stiles's ass cheek down towards his hole.

"You'll like this one. You know you fucked me before school this morning?" Stiles lets his head rest against Derek's chest, takes a moment to savour this.

Derek nods, his fingers still sliding down Stiles's crack, down towards...

"Yeah, I didn't clean it out. That plugs been in there all day, just waiting for you to take it out and fuck me again. My hole's still wet and sloppy with your come, I've been walking around all day with a bit of you inside me..."

Stiles can almost fucking feel Derek's cock get harder, twitching and jerking inside his jeans. Derek's moan is fucking obscene, he's glad his dad's working.

"Yeah, thought you'd like that. So, you gonna fuck me, or what?"

*

 

Stiles's phone beeps and he can't fucking be bothered to go and get it. It's probably just Scott still freaking out. But apparently Derek can.

"It's your dad. Want me to read it?" Derek asks, trailing his hand lazily up and down Stiles's back.

"Sure whatever." Stiles is too fucked out to care about shit like this now. It's probably just a reminder to take the rubbish out.

The silence from above him and Stiles opens an eye to look at Derek. Derek who is frozen with a look of horror on his face.

"What's up?" Stiles asks.

Derek doesn't say anything. Stiles feels an edge of fear creeping in.

"...Derek?"

"I thought you'd got distracted sending the dick shot, because I didn't get anything."

He'd most definitely sent a dick shot. "Oh god."

"Yeah."

" _Fuck_."

 ** **8**  
 **Pairings:** ** Danny/Stiles **  
 **Warning:** ** Very slight dub-con **  
 **Link to text chosen:**** [Text.](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49029.html)

Stiles: I'm just gonna go have sex with whom ever is in the men's room.  
Lydia: 'Whomever' is one word, and don't you dare hook up with a random at The Jungle. Where is Scott?  
Lydia: Stiles?  
Lydia: Do I have to do everything myself?

It wasn't that Scott was a bad wingman, Stiles decided, it was just that he didn't really know how. He had too much energy, so he'd go out on the dance floor and be swept up in the crowd immediately, leaving Stiles awkwardly on the sidelines.

Stiles chugged the last of his Coke and set the empty glass down. They let him in the club with his fake ID, but the bartender side-eyed him hard when Stiles tried to order a beer.

If he was going to do this, he was going to do this.

He glanced one last time at Scott, who was being fought over by a drag queen and a bear. Shaking his head, Stiles headed for the bathroom.

In the darkened hallway on the way to the men's room there were people in various states of hooking up against the walls. Stiles figured he'd just wait for someone to come along and pounce on them. He was only three steps down the dingy hallway when there was a hand pulling at the back of his collar. Before Stiles got a good look at his assailant, he was being pushed against the wall and there were lips pressing against his and a tongue teasing them open.

When the sneak-attack kisser pulled away enough for Stiles to get a good look at him, he was stunned speechless, well, almost.

“Danny?!? What are you doing? I mean, I'm not complaining. That is _not_ a complaint. Because you know how to kiss, man. But did you know it was _me_?”

“No, I always accost random guys on the way to the bathroom. It's kind of my move.”

Stiles' face heated in mortification.

“Oh my god, Stiles. You of all people should be familiar with sarcasm.”

“But you don't _like_ me.”

“There's just something about you, Stiles. You got under my skin. And under all the plaid, you're, well, hot. But after I brushed you off so many times, I didn't think you'd believe me if I asked you out. Am I too late?”

“Not too late. Not too late! Do you want to get out of here? My dad's on the night shift. To be perfectly honest, I didn't really want to lose my v-card in a public bathroom, I mean, if that's where this is headed. No pressure. You really think I'm hot?”

Danny answered with another blistering kiss.

He answered even more thoroughly when he had Stiles spread out naked with his mouth wet and sloppy around Stiles' cock and two slick fingers in Stiles' ass, pressing at an angle Stiles could never manage on his own.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Stiles was chanting. “I'm going to come. Do you-” He cut himself off with a choked sob as he came. Danny had moved his lips up to the head of Stiles' cock, swallowing as he stroked Stiles through the last shocks of his orgasm, then carefully pulling out his fingers.

Stiles lay boneless and panting. “Give me a second to come down from the stratosphere.”

“You don't have to.”

“Right, because I haven't thought about blowing you under the table in Chem lab for the last year.”

Before Danny could reply, Stiles was pawing open his jeans and taking out his cock. It was a little awkward, at first, but Danny guided Stiles when he could and Stiles was a remarkably fast learner.

So good that he looked positively smug as a he sat back on his heels, licking a lingering drop of come from his lips.

“Do you wanna stay?”

“I do. Believe me I do, but...my curfew.”

“I get it.”

“This isn't a one time thing, Stiles.” Danny sat up and kissed Stiles almost sweetly. Then he pulled himself off the bed. “I should get cleaned up.”

As he disappeared into the hallway, Stiles saw that Danny's phone had fallen out of his pocket. Curious, well, nosy, Stiles grabbed it, finding that Danny's texts were still open.

Lydia: Stiles is about to hook up with a stranger in the men's room. MAKE. YOUR. MOVE.

 

******9** ** **

****

****Pairings:** ** Allison/Lydia **  
 **Warning:** ** none **  
 **Link to text chosen:**** [here](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48774.html)

“It’s a personal planner,” Lydia explains patiently. Allison’s eyes aren’t so wide because she doesn’t know what she’s holding in her hand; it’s more of a question of ‘why’. “It will remember important dates for you, and you can set a reminder so that it’ll warn you ahead that an event is coming up,” Lydia continues in that special tone that is supposed to sound like she wants everybody to understand, but actually is mostly employed to make Allison annoyed.

“Is this about that one time I forgot to pick up your dress, because‒” Allison starts, but Lydia waves her hand imperiously.

“Already forgiven, don’t worry. Now, I have places to be, and you have things to learn.” She kisses the air by Allison’s cheek, because it’s another thing that annoys Allison, and with an artfully lipsticked smile, she’s gone.

Allison looks down at the planner in her hand and sighs. If Stiles’ predictions ever come true and the machines turn against humans like in a sci-fi movie, Allison and Lydia will be the first ones to go. Their apartment is crammed with everything that’s supposed to make your life’s easier, and in reality makes frustrating beeping sounds when the battery is dying. Allison can never tell if it’s one of the phones, or a netbook, or even the fucking fridge.

She has every intention of dropping the planner in a bottom drawer in the kitchen in hopes that it will see the end of its sad electronic days there. Lydia won’t mind; in fact, Lydia probably won’t notice. She buys these things sometimes, and gets bored with them quickly.

But the device makes a surprisingly melodious sound, a plausible imitation of little bells, and the screen flashes white. Allison peers at it suspiciously. Apparently, Lydia’s already programmed one entry in.

‘You have (1) upcoming event. There is (1) other participant: (Lydia Martin),’ the message reads. ‘In less than (2) hours. Event Name: Great news! Tonight I’ll be ripping your underwear off with my teeth.’

It can’t be stressed enough: Lydia’s entire free time is consumed by thinking up new ways to aggravate Allison.

“Just,” Allison says, and stammers to a stop on a moan.

Lydia lifts her head briefly to give her a self-satisfied smirk. Her lipstick is smeared, matching red marks leading down Allison’s neck and colouring her nipple. Lydia’s sprawled on her stomach between Allison’s legs, and she looks very comfortable, and very much like she isn’t going to move any time soon.

“That’s not even a proper sentence,” Lydia says. Her breasts are pressing into Allison’s stomach. Allison wants to smoulder her with a pillow.

“Just do something,” Allison hisses. She hopes it sounds venomous, but the blissful smile on Lydia’s face tells her that no, it doesn’t.

“I strongly believe in giving one lesson at a time,” Lydia says, lowering her head to suck at the skin stretching over Allison’s collarbones almost as an afterthought. She lets go with a wet sound. “But we need to work on the way you express yourself next time. Right now, though, the lesson is punctuality.”

What Lydia says makes very little sense to Allison, but to be fair, she’s not exactly dying to unravel the mystery, either. She’s too busy with Lydia’s lips, traveling the delicate arcs of Allison’s ribs; her teeth, scraping over the taut skin of Allison’s stomach; her tongue, tracing wet patterns across Allison’s hip.

They both freeze at the distant, cheerful sound of the personal planner coming to life with another notification. Allison’s gaze flickers briefly, involuntarily, to the bedroom floor where she tossed it in frustration. When she looks back at Lydia, with her halo of hair slipping from a professional updo, there’s a wicked glint in Lydia’s eyes.

“See,” she says pointedly, like this explains everything and proves once and for all that Lydia’s right, always. “Right on the dot.”

And then she slithers gracefully down Allison’s body, down and down, until her breath is an almost-touch through Allison’s panties. Lydia dips her head, quick, unexpected-but-expected. Her teeth scrape lightly over Allison’s skin and snatch at the elastic of her panties.

Allison can’t lift her hips fast enough to help take them off. She doesn’t push her luck by reminding Lydia there was something about ripping in there.

That’s the next lesson.

 

******10** ** **

****Pairings:** ** Derek/Scott **  
 **Warning:** ** n/a **  
 **Link to text chosen:**** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48526.html

Scott comes out of his room the first morning after, and Stiles wolf-whistles at him from over his laptop and Cheerios.

"Nice," he says. "Seeeeriously nice."

"You saw him go?" Scott asks. He'd woken up and the guy hadn't been there.

"Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome left half an hour ago," Stiles says, waggling his eyebrows. "Did you get his number? One of us should definitely get on that again. In fact, I volunteer."

"Nah," Scott says. "He didn't seem into follow-ups." He'd definitely seemed into other things though. Like Scott's dick.

"What a waaaste," Stiles singsongs, before going back to his Cheerios and the internet.

&&&

Stiles looks at him accusingly when he comes out of his room on the second morning after. "You totally _did_ get his number," he says flatly. "Liar!"

"I didn't!" Scott insists, still bleary-eyed and bedheaded. "Bros don't lie to bros!"

"Ugh," Stiles says, "you just have all the luck. Did you get his number this time, then?"

"No," Scott said. "He wouldn't."

He wouldn't give Scott his number, or even his name, but he gave Scott plenty of other things. His mouth, for kisses; his ass, for other things.

"I don't even want to know what you're remembering right now," Stiles says, and sourly goes back to his Froot Loops.

&&&

" _Three times is a pattern_ ," Stiles bellows, pounding on Scott's bedroom door after the third morning after.

"I don't know what happened!" Scott says ten minutes later, now with his clothes on. "I swear I can't go out anymore. It's like he put a GPS in my dick or something." He's not sure whether he should feel awkward or proud.

"Okay," Stiles says, pacing, "okay. Well. He's clearly got some serious hots for you. Tell me you at least got his number this time."

They had been busy, not a second spent with mouths free. At least, not until Scott was laid out on his back, and then he'd been too preoccupied with panting his pleasure into the air to ask for anything but _more_.

Scott doesn't know what his expression looks like, but it makes Stiles groan.

&&&

Part of Scott doesn't even want to ask the guy for his name. There's a kind of magic to it, a blood-deep magnetism that he feels even before he's looked through the dancing crowd and seen—

Yes.

Their gazes catch and snag on each other, and part of Scott feels trapped by it even as his skin starts to heat. This is the fourth night, the fourth club, the fourth time Scott has felt absolutely stripped by the way this guy looks at him as he makes his way closer. But if two's a coincidence and three is a pattern, then four must be...

The guy presses Scott against the wall, bracketing him in with his arms and his familiar leather smell. There's a moment of fraught eye contact, and then they are kissing like beasts, mouths open wide, tongues shoved deep. There is something between them, almost painfully intense.

Scott gets a grip on the guy's leather jacket and forces their bodies apart. The kiss breaks, leaving them both panting. The guy's face looks raw and open, maybe even a bit terrified, cheeks flushed under the rough of his stubble.

Scott says, "If three times is a pattern—"

"I'm Derek," the guy blurts.

There is a long pause, the bass thumping in the background. Then, Scott says, " _it's about time_."

They fuck that night slower than they had any of the previous.

"You want to be here?" Scott asks, pressing in without stopping at all. Derek shakes his head over and over into the pillow as his fingers clutch at the sheet helplessly, until it's all bunched into a mess.

"You do, don't you," Scott breathes, watching the tense lines of Derek's back until he grits out:

"Fuck. _Fuck_ , yes, I—"

"Then stay afterward, and give me your fucking number," Scott says, and fucks Derek steadily, until he's sweaty and trembling, face-down, moaning, even begging.

Scott comes before he can help himself when Derek grits out " _please_ ", but makes it up afterward. He sucks Derek down long and easy, because he's good at it, and there is a tenderness in the way Derek touches his face.

"Stay," Scott says, as they lay next to each other later, in the dark.

"Fine," Derek says. He rolls his eyes, and rolls over.

Derek is a little bit of a dick, Scott thinks.

He could be into that.

******11** ** **

****Pairings:** ** Derek/Stiles **  
 **Warning:** ** very minor body image things **  
 **Link to text chosen:****<http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-41234.html>

****

When Derek blatantly rejected Stiles, after _clearly_ returning his kiss, hands just beginning to dance under Stiles’ shirt, he said, "I'm sorry," before slinking back into the darkness. Stiles was confused. He spent an excessive amount of time in the mirror, feeling his self-confidence dropping.

 

 

***

Stiles didn't give up. If anything, it only made him try harder. He spent time in the gym, outside of lacrosse, pushing himself harder, toning up. When he began to see a change, he decided to try again. He paraded around shirtless on a particularly hot day. He’d never seen Derek show less interest in him. Stiles was embarrassed.

***

Stiles still didn't give up. He trained harder and decided to be more helpful, even going as far as trying to be less snarky to Derek. (Key word, “trying,” because that broody bastard didn't make it easy.) But as Stiles helped Scott haul things into Derek’s new place, Derek just grumbled something about going to get food and left them there to do all the work.

"I give up," said Stiles, dropping the box he was holding, earning a displeased grunt from Scott.

"Oh, leave _me_ to do all the heavy lifting when this was your idea." Scott put down his box and tossed Stiles a water bottle. "What do you give up on?"

"Derek. He’s so- I've done everything. I don’t know what he wants from me."

"Maybe he doesn't-"

Stiles splashed water at Scott’s face. "No, shut up. He kissed me back, then nothing. So, I give up. We’ll finish this, wait for the food, then I’m just going to eat until there’s an actual reason why he doesn’t want to fuck me."

"TMI, dude." Scott bumped his shoulder against Stiles, and they got back to work.

 

***

Stiles gave up. He stopped going to the gym, sticking to his lacrosse-only routine, but he did start baking. Baking calmed him down, helped him focus so he wouldn't do stupid shit like text Derek, or worse, text or call everyone else to ask about Derek. The house smelled great and he always had awesome snacks to share. Soon enough, baked goods and sweets weren't getting picked up as often, leaving Stiles to say, “More for me!” and eating the rest himself.

***

Stiles hadn't noticed a change, not really, until some asshole called him "tubby" in the changing room, and he was surprised to find that that asshole was right. He wasn't _big_ , but definitely pudgy where he’d been lean before, bit more meat in his face, bit more jiggle in his belly. It wasn't like he was getting laid anyway.

It was that day Stiles got a call from Derek to help him with his laptop, because the 21st century and Derek still didn't quite agree. So he went.

The charger was unplugged. He was surprised to find Derek looming over him wordlessly with a beer, but he took it anyway.

They sat in silence, watching TV, but every time Derek got up, he’d sit down closer to Stiles. Stiles was confused.

"Dude, what gives?"

"Hm?" Derek didn't look away from the TV.

"This, you all close and us _hanging out_? You clearly rejected me."

"Stiles-"

Stiles was having none of that, so he went for it, shutting Derek up with a kiss. Derek kissed back, hands going to Stiles’ hips, sliding under his shirt. Stiles froze, but instead of the push he was expecting, Derek’s fingers dug into the flesh there and pulled him closer.

He broke up the kiss to question it, but didn't get a chance as Derek practically tore off his tee and nuzzled into him.

"Fuck. Look so good like this." Derek’s hands continued to roam. Stiles wanted to push away, embarrassed.

Derek pushed Stiles down, sliding between Stiles’ thighs, hips grinding slowly, making Stiles forget embarrassment.

Stiles moaned when Derek pushed his hands up to hold the side of the couch, leaving him on display.

Derek kissed Stiles’ neck, buried his face in Stiles’ armpit, never stopping the movement of his hips. Fuck, Stiles was going to come in his pants if he didn't stop.

Derek didn't stop, grinding harder and faster, babbling about Stiles' "perfect, soft curves," his "beautiful belly." Stiles was so close he could cry, just one more- yes! He came in his pants; cock feeling oversensitive as Derek kept going, grinding hard until he practically collapsed on top of Stiles, breathing heavy.

The silence was awkward. "So, that happened."

"Shut up, Stiles."

 **12**  
 **Pairings:** Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski  
 **Warning:** Slight exhibitionism  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48995.html

 

“Derek,” Stiles moaned, “Please…”

He heard the man let out a low growl against his lips, the feeling causing vibrations and shivers to run through Stiles’ body. There was harsh breathing against his ear, and a sharp bite against his neck that had him arching and clenching his eyes. His sense thrummed happily, and his cock strained against his zipper.

Stiles was a bit of an exhibitionist. He loved the fact he would need to stay quietly; he loved the knowledge that their friends and family were just outside the door, talking and conversing happily; he loved the prospect of getting caught at any moment. It sent a thrill through his spine, makes his senses even more perceptible to touch.

It was a match made in heaven when he met Derek Hale. Strong and grumpy and ridiculously gorgeous, the man liked to exhibit control and, more importantly, give Stiles what he wants. It’s a good thing they have so much in common.

Stiles whined desperately and rocked down onto Derek’s cock, silently telling him what he needed. Derek thrust upwards, catching Stiles’ hitched moan in a kiss before releasing the younger man suddenly. His hands were urging as they pushed Stiles to his knees, and Stiles wasted no time in unbuckling his suit pants, tugging them away to get to Derek’s cock. He was pleased to see the lack of underwear barrier. If there was ever a time to love the fact that Derek hated boxers, it would be now.

Peering up under his eyelashes, Stiles licked across the head, humming at the taste of pre-cum, before taking all of the cock into his mouth. The weight was heavy and wonderful and fuck if Stiles ever questioned whether he was gay, all he had to do was suck some cock and it would all come flooding back.

Derek’s cheeks were flushed red and his eyes were dark, sharp as he watched everything with that stupidly attractive intensity. His hands cupped Stiles’ face, thumbs and fingers brushing at the hollowness in his cheeks, and brushing the seam of Stiles’ lips around his cock. He felt the wrap of tongue along the underside of his cock and his grip flexed painfully.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Derek snapped out, half breathless, half angered.

Stiles grinned around his cock, amusement dancing in his eyes and deliberately hummed. He watched delighted when the man cursed and tossed his head back, revealing the sharp angular edges of his neck and jaw.

Derek was close, Stiles could tell. He had done this so many times that he could see the tell-tale signs as instinctively as he breathed. It was in the shuddering intakes of breath and the bruising grip on his face, his hair. It was in the uncontrolled jerk of his hips that Derek always tried desperately to regain power over, because the man hated to let people know he was out of control, even in a situation like this.

Stiles pulled over, sucking teasingly at the spongy head, before nuzzling his way along the underside until his face was buried in the space between cock and balls. He licked and nipped gently, laving the skin with attention. He felt the balls draw up suddenly and away from him, felt the shaking, and he just about managed to pull away to get Derek to cum across his face. His eyes closed and he gasped, the hot spurts painting his cheekbones, lips and hair with cum.

It was only when Derek’s hands brushed his cheeks that he opened his eyes.

“Hi,” he croaked out.

“Hey,” Derek said his voice rough.

Stiles raised his hand, wiped a line and sucked his thumb pointedly.

Derek made a broken noise. “Fuck you Stiles,” he cursed without heat.

“Later,” Stiles promised, “First, we need to get back to the wedding rehearsal.”

“Right,” Derek agreed, quickly stuffing his cock back into his trousers and zipping up, “I have no idea how you convinced me into this.”

“As if you were objecting,” he reminded, “And by the way, you owe me for this. Now I’ve do my best man speech with a hard on.”

Derek grinned impishly. He stepped closer, hands hovering teasingly over Stiles’ waistband. “Well, we’re going to have to do something about that…”

Stiles’ tensed in anticipation, and his breathing deepened slightly. Derek’s fingers popped the button, and Stiles licked his lips.

And then his phone rang.

Barely suppressing a groan, Stiles fumbled into his pocket to open the text.

SCOTT: Dude, please tell me you haven’t abandoned me with Allison’s parents so you and Derek can fuck

STILES: Don’t act like you’re not jealous that I disappeared into the closest to blow my husband. Marriage = all the cock I want.

SCOTT: Far too much information Stiles! Now, please, come and safe me.

STILES: Give me five minutes.

He shoved his phone roughly into his pockets, and gave Derek a look. “We’ve got five minutes, and then Scott’s going to come hunting for us.”

Derek grinned mischievously. “Maybe we should give him a show. A late wedding gift.”

Stiles felt the cold air and gasped loudly at the unexpected temperature change. “Sounds like a fucking fantastic idea. Get to work solider.”

“Aye, aye Captain,” Derek gave a mock salute.

**13**

**Pairings:** Peter/Lydia  
 **Warning:** sassy Peter, language, sexy times  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48423.html

 

"I can't believe you did that."

"You're really going to talk about this now?"

"I think it needs to be talked about. You have anger management problems."

"Werewolf, remember?"

Lydia put her hands down on Peter's chest and smiled at him; it was a wicked smirk, one that would have made less men cower away. She arched back as she pushed down, riding him faster and faster, her legs squeezing his sides as they were stretched out in his bed. They alternated between his place, in the newly remodeled Hale house, and hers, the hosue she inherited in a matter of speaking when her mom left for New York. Lydia couldn't leave Beacon Hills, and the house held a great many memories.

His hands wrapped around her tiny waist, fingers grazing over the scars on her side left so long ago. He'd marked her then, not knowing what would happen, not this far at least but here they were. His mate, the one who completed him, wrapped in a fiery red-haired package. It was times like this when he knew there was no one else for him. He growled, his eyes flashing red as he pulled her down closer to him and kissed her bright red lips, nipping them a bit.

"Werewolf or not you shouldn't have done it."

Lydia kept moving, her whole body on fire as they moved together. She knew it infuriated him that she could equally throw herself into lovemaking as well as have a seemingly unrelated conversation with him. But she could. It wasn't something she did often as Lydia wanted to express her love for him as well but he had gone over the line earlier and it could just be forgotten yet.

"You punched a guy Peter. He nearly flew across the room."

Peter gripped her tighter and could feel hismelf getting closer and closer. Her breathing was a sign that Lydia was as well. Her scent was becoming stronger as she neared the edge as well. he so loved watching her get to that point and then sending her over the edge all the while knowing that he had a hold of her.

"That's it baby, just like that. Fuck I love how you feel around me."

Peter's voice had dropped to a snarly growl, one that turned Lydia on even more. She pressed her fingers harder into his chest, slowly pressing her own nails against his skin. Oh it would hurt a little but not for too long. Still, she liked to do it. Her breathing WAS getting harder and more shallow as her control rapidly lessened.

"Oh... oh god Peter.... just like that... oh yes so so goood..."

Neither of them had any intention of waiting and the gyrating intentional movement of Lydia's hips served only one purpose and that was to push Peter over the edge. Her hair fell over her shoulders and brushed down against his neck and chest, and Peter could smell the strawberries of her shampoo mixed with the vanilla of her lotion. It was one of his favourite smells, and it would forever be associated with her.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, fuck yes!"

It was a few minutes befoe they both had quelled their orgams and Lydia collapsed on him nuzzling his neck, smiling against his skin. It never failed to amaze her the depth of passion and emotion she felt for Peter and vice versa. She reached up and slowly stroked his hair as they lay there.

"But seriously, you punch him, Peter. You just can't."

"I didn't punch him it was just love coming out of my fist."

Lydia lifted her head and looked at him, her eyebrow raised in question. She leaned down and kissed him softly.

"That's what you're going with, really?"

Peter gave her a look, it was almost serious and he held onto her as he flipped them around, wrapped himself around her, hodling her close.

"He grabbed your ass and tried to feel you up. He's lucky he still has hands. You're mine, and every better get damn used to it."

Lydia smiled slowly; possessive Peter was actually really hot she had to admit. And he was possessive about her. She knew but it was nice to hear. She could have gotten rid of the drunk guy on her own but Peter's way worked too. She had to keep him from killing people, warranted or not. She pressed closer to him and kissed him back slow and deep.

"Yours, always. Yours."

 

 **14**  
 **Pairings:** Stiles/Derek  
 **Warning:** Kind of Voyeur!Derek  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49149.html

 

 _The woman that sang I Touch Myself died today. There's only one appropriate way to honor her memory._ Stiles grins and waits for Scott’s reply, laying back and getting comfortable against his pillows. Whether his friend answers his text or not, Stiles is settling in for some “me” time. Honoring the singers memory is as good an excuse as any. Not that he really needs one.

He reaches out and grabs his phone when it dings, a fond half-grin on his face as he reads Scott’s message. _”Dude, I’m at work!”_

Shaking his head, he taps the screen to answer just as another message comes in. _”Also, eww! Did not need to know what you and little Stiles were up to tonight! :(((((“_

Stiles’ grin turns wicked and for a moment he’s tempted to further torment his best friend. After all, it’s only fair. How many times has Stiles had to endure Scott’s Allison-related exploits?

Deciding he has better things to do -- namely the hard-on he’s still sporting from watching the wolves ~~Derek~~ run around half naked for most of the afternoon -- he turns his ringer off and tosses his phone in the general direction of his desk. Digging under his pillow for the bottle of lube, he glances over at the open -- empty -- window and lets a smug smile cross his face. It may be empty _now_ , but that wouldn't last long.

Getting comfortable, he allows his hands to roam over his body, down his chest to his nipples, giving them a tweak as he passes by. He’s got time, but he’s impatient, ready to get to the main event; but he waits. There’s a specific sound he’s waiting for as he strokes down his belly, running his fingers through the line of hair that runs down between his legs.

He plays with the skin at his hip joint, letting the back of his finger graze over his cock every now and then, just teasing before sliding the tips of his fingers down the length of it. The scrape of claws against the window sill catches his attention, but he pays it no mind, just smirks like a cat with feathers hanging out of his mouth.

“You gonna join me this time?” he asks quietly, his attention still on what he’s doing with his hands. When the silence goes on for a few seconds, he nods his head and reaches for the lube, squirting some on his hands. “That’s okay. You just watch, then.”

Stiles moans as he finally wraps his hand around himself, stroking just this side of too tight for a couple of seconds. His hand slides smoothly up and down his length, and he bucks his hips a little just to add to the show. He turns half-lidded eyes to the window just as a shadow moves across the room.

“Derek,” Stiles whispers as he feels the bed dip by his hip. He reaches out his free hand and grunts in frustration as it’s batted away. Huffing, Stiles lets that hand drift down, past his balls, and back, until the tips of his fingers graze lightly as his hole.

Stiles plants his feet on the bed, spreading his legs and opening himself up, dipping his finger in knuckle deep with a wailing moan. His breathing picks up and his heart beats jackrabbit fast as Derek leans over him, his eyes red and trained on Stiles’ ever-moving hands. Stiles move the hand on his dick faster, flicking over the head on the upstroke and tightening his grip on the way down. He’s not going to last long like this, not with Derek focusing so intently on him.

Stiles gasps as a sudden gust of warm air ghosts over his cock. Opening eyes he hadn’t realized he closed, he looks down his body and his body tighten at the sight of Derek crouching over his hip, his mouth inches from Stiles’ straining erection. Stiles hips buck up involuntarily, and Derek jerks back, turning wide eyes on Stiles.

“Please,” Stiles groans. “Derek. Please.”

For a second, Stiles thinks Derek might bolt. He’s tensed and turning, ready to spring for the window. A whimper from Stiles has him turning back, and the next second Stiles is coming hard. Derek’s fingers are wrapped firmly around Stiles’ cock, linked tightly between Stiles’ own.

“Rest in peace, Christina,” Stiles croaks and drifts off to the sound of Derek’s fond exasperation.

**15**

**Pairings:** Allison/Scott  
 **Link to text chosen:** <http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-32346.html>

Lydia: After Thursday my breakup "don't screw anybody out of respect" month will be over and I will be set loose. My pussy is purring with anticipation.

Alli: You want to get laid?

Lydia: Get laid? Nothing so trite. I want to fuck some guy’s brains out.

Alli: ...

Lydia: You with Scott? Dare you to use your birthday present.

Alli: !!!

Lydia: Make that pussy purr, Allison. Or rather his. Be the alpha. He’ll love it.

Allison burst out laughing.

Scott sat up and curled around her. “What’s so funny?”

“Lydia.”

“She okay?”

Allison set her phone on the bedside table. Scott slid his arms around her and she sank against him. “I think she might be. Scott?”

Scott flopped back down on the bed, hands tucked behind his head. “What?”

Allison glanced at her boyfriend, still fresh from his shower. No shirt, his skin smooth and oh yes, she thought as a rush of warmth pooled deep inside her, she liked Lydia’s suggestion quite a lot. She placed one hand over his jean-clad cock.

Scott’s eyes widened. “Alli--“

Placing one finger on his lips she drew it down his chin, then his chest. Every inch traveled, finger to skin, made the heat in her--she smiled--her pussy flame hotter.

Scott gulped. “Allison?” he squeaked as her finger moved past his belly. His breath hitched.

Without taking her eyes from his, she undid his fly, one button after another. The heat poured from his cock and her confidence grew as a groan escaped.

 _“Allison....”_ He closed his eyes, cocking his hips up.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

“’kay.”

Allison waited a moment to make sure he was going to do as he was told. Satisfied, she slipped into the bathroom and tugged off her clothes, shivering in anticipation or probably from the slight chill from the cool tile. She opened the bottom drawer where she kept it hidden. _It_ being the "gift" Lydia had bought her. She’d been mortified, but she’d kept it, and was now glad. It took a moment to put on but, watching herself in the mirror, she was well-pleased. Flowers on a cock were pretty silly but she liked it.

“Allison?”

“Shut your eyes. Take off your jeans and turn onto your stomach.”

“What? But-- I’ll be naked.“

“I know. Trust me, Scott,” she said.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

She peeked around the bathroom door and once satisfied he was ready, she grabbed the lube and walked into the room and got on the bed behind him and pulled his hips up. He yelped in surprise and opened his eyes, turning his head to stare at her strap-on. His gaze traveled up her naked body, and his face flushed at her stern look.

“Turn around, Scott,” she said, her voice soft, commanding.

He collapsed onto the pillows, a groan escaping him as she placed her hands on his backside. She squirted some lube out, rubbing it over her cock head and his hole. A rush of appreciation, lust and oh fuck yeah a screaming _need_ to slam into him pushed her on.

Grabbing his balls she squeezed, making him shudder; precome dripped down his cock. She started to stroke him, making him moan --so unbelievably hot, that--and pushed her cock head in.

Scott howled, bucking against her but not away... _into_ her. A thrill of power rushed through her as she let loose, pumping her hips into him, deeper and deeper with each thrust. She almost laughed at the sounds of their bodies smacking together, but the way Scott embraced what she was doing? That near undid her.

She’d never done this before but it didn’t matter; it didn’t take long for Scott to swell unbelievably in her hand. Her clit burned with the need for release but this, this? She could almost get off on making Scott scream and moan and even howl as the wolf in him responded to being soundly and thoroughly fucked.

Pulling out just as she sensed he was about to come she pushed him onto his back and straddled him, sliding her aching clit up and down his slick, hot shaft until he finally came, she following not long behind. She collapsed onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

After a long moment, he said, “Tell Lydia thanks for the suggestion.”

Allison looked at him in surprise, then saw her phone sitting next to them. She laughed. “I will. I promise.”

 

**16**

**Pairings:** Scott/Stiles  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://tfl.nu/4mcu - **(815):** I've noticed we have slowly begun to phase the "B" out of our Bromance.

 

It's only once Isaac has left for Santa Ana to spend the summer with his aunt and after he and Allison are on the outs for the seventh or eighth time that Scott sees what Stiles has been saying since they were eight-years-old - always under the guise of a joke.

" _Dude_ , I am a way better friend to you than you are to me."

If it hadn't been for school, Scott doubted he'd have seen Stiles at all. He labels this summer the 'Make It Up to Stiles Summer' and stands awkwardly on his doorstep, hands in his pockets.

Stiles squints against the sunlight and snorts. "Back to scrape the bottom of the barrel again, Scotty?"

His summer plan is not off to a great start.

 

* * *

Scott gets the feeling Stiles doesn't really trust him anymore. He still looks surprised when Scott shows up, opening the door with his phone in hand like he'd been expecting a text that would cancel. Scott knows that even with all the time they've spent apart, he's never stopped thinking of Stiles as his best friend. He's realizing that Stiles hasn't thought of him that way for a long time.

It _hurts_ more than he can put into words.

Stiles hangs out with Danny and Lydia, Allison even, so Scott takes whatever free time Stiles will give him until they're hanging out almost every day. He's forgotten what it's like to be around him, how he never has to explain anything because Stiles just _gets_ him or how borderline unbelievable Stiles is when it comes to supporting him or how fun he is - Stiles has been dragging him out on adventures since they were five.

Scott had also forgotten what Stiles's scent meant to him (or maybe he'd never realized before) until he wakes up with a face full of it. Stiles smells like family. His house smells like home. Scott shifts closer to his best friend and closes his eyes.

 

* * *

Scott languishes on Stiles's bed, staring up at the ceiling, distantly listening to the pitter-patter of the shower. Stiles is getting ready for an afternoon with Danny and Lydia. Scott's pointedly not been invited. Stiles steps out, towel wrapped around his waist, and starts picking through the clothes on his floor. Scott waits until he's close enough, grabs his wrist and pulls him down on the bed with him.

He buries his nose in Stiles's neck and breathes in deep. Stiles rolls his eyes and pushes him off by the face but he's smiling while he does it.

 

* * *

The first day of school rolls around and Scott can tell Stiles is uneasy. Isaac is back and he and Allison are talking again. Stiles looks like he's dreading when the other shoe will drop. Scott's determined to make him understand that he comes first, just as he always should've.

He stays over at Stiles's the night before. They're walking out the door, making sure they have everything, when Scott whirls on him and presses his closed mouth to Stiles's. He pulls back and levels him with a gauging stare.

He gets a weak flutter of a smile for his efforts. He'll take it.

 

* * *

He still sleeps over at Stiles's all the while. They do homework together, research beasties together, play video games together. They do everything together. It feels only natural that when he wakes up and notices that Stiles is hard next to him, that they should do this together too. It doesn't feel like a sex thing. It feels like an intimate thing and Scott wants that.

He pushes down Stiles's boxers, wraps a hand around his cock and stares into Stiles's surprised eyes while he gets him off. He doesn't break eye contact, not even to kiss him, while Stiles gasps and arches and grips tight to Scott's biceps.

Stiles comes and his heart is thumping wildly and Scott tells him, "I've never felt more comfortable than I do around you."

 

* * *

He and Stiles go out to the woods, climbing over rotted-out logs, and Stiles says he feels like Scott is the Hobbes to his Calvin. They break out into a clearing and Stiles lies down. Scott readily takes the spot next to him. Stiles's fingers tentatively reach out to twist around his. He squints and says, "I've noticed we've slowly begun to phase the 'B' out of our bromance."

Scott's stomach churns and he shifts up onto his elbow. "Is that okay?"

Stiles grins.

**17**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** none  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48250.html and http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48687.html and http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48433.html and http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48479.html

 **Title:** Blue Ribbon

Scott has a faded blue ribbon pinned to the wall by his bed so he can see it first thing in the morning and last thing before he falls asleep at night. In very careful cursive, it says "Scott McCall: First Place in Friendship." It's gotten ratty over the ten years since Stiles gave it to him, but Scott cherishes it above all other awards or trophies. It's the last thing he packs with him to take to college and the first thing he hangs on the wall in his and Boyd's dorm room. Stiles and Isaac are two buildings over in an attempt to appease their parents that they're branching out.

Scott wakes up blearily on his first morning of college life, focusing on his ribbon, the half-unpacked boxes still in the middle of the floor, and the soft buzzing of his phone. A text from Stiles:

**Just jerked off with bubble wrap. Not as awesome as it sounds.**

Scott heads to freshman orientation with a massive grin on his face. Nothing's going to change them.

***

The four of them check out a frat during Rush Week and get invited back for a "private party," which Stiles was sure meant half-naked women. Instead it was code for a creepy dinner date scenario, with each of them assigned to an upperclassman. Scott's is seriously aggressive and he's debating letting his claws out when he realizes Stiles left the room. His phone beeps with an incoming text:

**Code 10 We gotta leave. Now. I took a dump in the upstairs toilet and its clogged and overflowing.**

They wind up each excusing themselves for the bathroom and crawl out an upstairs window, barely containing their gag reflexes and their laughter.

***

A few days later, Stiles texts Scott, asking to borrow one of the books they bought together for their Women's Studies class. Scott's on an epic Skype date with Allison and doesn't get the message until several hours later, followed up by another text soon after:

**I can't even express how horny I am. The English language isn't equipped for what I'm plotting.**

It doesn't even register to Scott as odd – just Stiles. He touches his finger briefly to the blue ribbon in apology as he grabs the book. The Camaro is parked in the lot by Stiles and Isaac's building, and Scott remembers it's Tuesday, the day Derek drives down to take Boyd to breakfast and Isaac to lunch. It's 10:00 now, though, so perhaps Stiles managed to coerce Derek into adding dinner with Stiles to his rotation.

There are noises behind Stiles and Isaac's door, and Derek is still there, but Scott doesn't stop to think or concentrate on the sounds or smells, just opens the door.

He regrets it immediately.

That's his best friend's dick there on full display. Because he is naked, and pressed up against Derek, also naked, also with a hard dick out for the world to see. Or just Scott, as he's the only one there, standing in the doorway, held in place by the mesmerizing sight of Derek's well-muscled ass as it flexes with each thrust down. Stiles shifts, throwing a leg over Derek's hip, and at least Scott can't see the dicks anymore. The noises, though, as both of them gasp and moan at the new angle, are almost enough to drive Scott insane.

He's about to slam the door shut and break up this party when his wolf ears pick up what Stiles is mumbling against Derek's neck, "Stay, please, please…"

Derek must like what he's hearing, as his whole body bends in an impossible curve, taut for one second before he's coming with a groan that travels all the way up from his toes. Even Scott can feel it, but Stiles, right there in the action, looks like he's seen the face of God. Scott quickly averts his eyes, but he can still hear Stiles' come hitting Derek's body and the slick sound of their tongues and wet skin rubbing together as they begin some serious afterglow petting and kissing.

Scott leaves the book on the floor and tiptoes out, sacrificing his own sock to tie around the door to protect Isaac. He can't resist texting Stiles later, though:

**Derk, S? Reallly?**

**OMG.**

**I saw yr dicks!**

**Payback Mr. Allison! I either had a 6 minute orgasm or I had so many I lost count. I'm still not sure. :P**

Scott has _earned_ that blue ribbon!

 

**18**

**Pairings:** Stiles/Jackson  
 **Warning:** Cross dressing, unsafe sex, and anon sex  
 **Link to text chosen:**[Text1](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48169.html) and [Text2](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-47680.html)

“Amber, I’m having an emotional breakdown watching baby sloths on Youtube. You need to come save me from myself.” Stiles whined plaintively into the phone. Energy buzzed under his skin like a million baby bees and it was driving him to distraction.

He wanted something to do. He **needed** it. Sadly, Scott was out of town on a celebratory mother-son trip after passing his first set of college finals so he had no-one to shoot the celebratory shit with. If he had been there though Stiles was sure his weekend would’ve ended a little bit differently.

For instance, the getting totally smashed and grinding up against strangers in at Desert? Totally still would’ve happened, but possibly without the shirtlessness and ruffled skirt.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck, your _ass_.” Someone was groaning into his ear.

Stiles wasn’t sure who it was just yet, he only knew that they had broad shoulders and fucking beautiful hands. Large, gorgeous hands that were sliding up his thighs and having entirely too much fun with the string bikini underwear Stiles will swear until his dying day was someone else's idea. He’ll regret it later. Tomorrow maybe.

When he felt the telltale slip of the strings and the heavy weight of a man’s hand cupping his dick he blearily came to the realization that he liked this, quite a bit actually. He has no problem stumbling drunkenly after the guy when asked if he minded them finding someplace a little more private than the dance floor. He had enough sense left to introduce him to the girls first though, and the guy must’ve passed muster because Desiree promptly gave them one of the keys to the hotel room they booked just down the street and an encouraging pat on the butt. The she was chatting with looked somewhat familiar but and slightly horrified at the sight of them but not enough for Stiles to ignore the Adonis shaped being leading him by the hand out of the club.

Drunk and horny as they were they managed to make it to the room without falling over too much and with only minimal public nudity. Sure Stiles panties were missing by the time they got there, and he’s pretty sure that he mooned traffic at some point, but he was too busy marking up the other guy to really care. The grinding against the guys’ Porsche was particularly memorable.

As soon as they are in the door he’s trying to grab at the guy but the sprint to the room took a lot out of the both of them and the most they can manage is to literally fall into bed together. Stiles thinks he might have just enough coordination to flip them over so he can suck the guy but gets distracted by Adonis already nuzzling up his thighs and sucking him down hungrily enough to make him jerk and keen at the wet pressure of it. Stiles is laying back against the cold pillows, greedily listens for every dirty sound, clutching at the bouffant ruffles of his white skirt and all the while cursing the fact that it’s hiding all the interesting details. Not that he could see much in the dim light afforded by the streetlights outside anyway but still, it might give him something to focus on besides coming embarrassingly quick. The rhythmic thudding and woman screaming “Yes daddy, more!” next door was slightly distracting but not enough. Then those large, beautiful hands were grasping his thighs and hefting them up and open and--

“ _Fuck_!”

He was sweating, thighs shaking, and stomach flexing as he fought the urge to thrust. Not that he could get much deeper into that devilish mouth if he tried.

“C’mon, c’mon, _c’mon_!” Stiles begged.

 _Close_...

The guy pulled off and dropped his legs in response only to bend and pull him into a filthy wet kiss, grabbing both of their cocks and giving two fast, saliva slick pulls that had them both coming into the flimsy material of the skirt. Adonis fell over groaning and they both passed out minutes later, satiated and sticky with cum.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“What the **HELL** Stilinski?!” Jackson Whittemore was yelling the next morning.

... _Dear god too much yelling_...

Jackson, who supposedly went back to his hometown with his high-school sweetheart last night.

“Stay calm! I swear there is a totally heterosexual explanation for this!” Stiles was cursing his luck.

“There'd better be!” Jackson was snarling.

There really, _really_ isn’t though...


	2. Group B (with warnings)

**19**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** underage  
 **Link to text chosen:** [here](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-32235.html)

 

Stiles and Derek have been fucking for three months.

It's just fucking: Stiles is trying to get over Lydia and Derek is damaged, using sex to fight whatever demons keep him awake at night.

It doesn't mean anything.

*

"God, Stiles," Derek groans, twisting three of his fingers deep in Stiles' come-filled ass. "You're going to be the death of me."

Stiles grins, breathless and sore in the best way, and hooks his hands behind his thighs to hold himself open. "Best way to go."

Derek rolls his eyes, pulls his fingers free, and pushes in with his dick, barely giving himself time to bottom out before he starts fucking Stiles with hard, perfect thrusts. Stiles' dick throbs, leaving strings of pre-come on his stomach. It's the third time they've fucked in as many hours, and Stiles spares a moment to thank the universe for the combination of werewolf and teenage stamina.

And then he stops thinking much at all.

*

"What's this?" Stiles says, taking the unwrapped box from Derek.

Derek shrugs. "I stepped on your watch last time we were at my loft. Consider it an apology."

Inside is a silver watch, much like the one Derek had broken. _Stiles Stilinski_ is engraved on the back.

"Oh." Stiles blinks. "Thanks."

*

Stiles likes to be fucked from behind, likes to have his ass in the air and his shoulders pressed down into the mattress as Derek splits him wide open on his dick, pounding his hips so hard against Stiles' ass there are bruises for days afterward.

Derek likes it too, Stiles thinks; he likes to press his nails into Stiles' hips, likes to hold Stiles' ass cheeks apart so he can watch the rim stretch around him, likes to shove so deep inside it makes Stiles stop breathing.

*

Stiles stares at the leather wallet Derek has just handed him, and then stares at Derek.

"It's no big deal," Derek says, glancing away. "I saw it and thought of you, so I bought it."

Stiles breathes. "Okay," he says, and shoves it into his back pocket.

*

Sometimes, Stiles lets Derek fuck his face. He's not very good at it yet, but he likes it, and Derek always makes the best noises. He'll tangle his fingers in Stiles' hair and hold on like he'll fly apart if he doesn't, hips hitching as he tries not to choke Stiles. When he comes, he pulls out halfway through and empties the rest onto Stiles' nose and cheeks.

 

*

 _Third time's a pattern_ , Stiles thinks, jaw clenching as he stares at the brand new lacrosse stick Derek left on his bed.

He wants to throw it against the wall, but instead he turns around and storms right back out of his room, keys fisted in his palm.

*

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Derek looks confused as Stiles pushes past him into the apartment. "What?"

"The gifts!" Stiles yells.

"I wanted to." Derek shrugs, but he looks uncomfortable. "Why are you so upset?"

" _Because_. That's not how these arrangements work. You don't buy each other stuff unless you break a sex toy. End of story."

Derek's lips quirk. "We don't have any sex toys."

"Not the point," Stiles says between gritted teeth. "You need to stop."

Derek stares at him, expression carefully guarded. "Why?"

Stiles breathes. "Because I don't need another Lydia."

He leaves before Derek can say anything else.

*

Derek doesn't contact Stiles for two weeks.

Stiles refuses to cry.

*

The text comes at one in the morning.

 _I don't want to be another Lydia_ , it reads. _I want to be more._

*

Stiles knocks softly, and isn't surprised when Derek opens the door immediately. He looks exhausted and scared, and Stiles licks his lips, feels his stomach clench.

"I can't promise. But I want to try."

Derek swallows, nods. "Come to bed?"

Stiles follows him up, strips down to nothing and climbs in beside him. Derek pulls him close, presses his front to Stiles' back, and tangles their fingers together over Stiles' heart.

"Stop giving me things," Stiles mumbles, already drifting off.

Derek huffs against the back of his neck. "No."

*

In the morning, Stiles lets Derek fuck him slow, lets him press kisses to his jaw and roll his hips until they both come.

Stiles grins and makes them pancakes, and pretends not to notice when Derek wraps his arms around Stiles' waist and slips a key into his front pocket.

**20**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** semi-public sex  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49029.html

"I'm just gonna go have sex with whom ever's in the men's room," Stiles yells, right into Scott's ear, but Scott isn't paying attention, giving Stiles a nod and a goofy smile. Then again, he does have Allison wrapped around him. 

The bathroom's quiet is a surprise; with the door shut behind him, Stiles can barely hear the throbbing bass. He heads straight for the sinks, ignoring the shadow of the guy at the urinals. 

He always forgets how clubs aren't conducive to layers. His t-shirt sticks to him in all the wrong places and there's absolutely _nothing_ sexy about upper lip sweat. His cool wet hands are a relief on his face and the back of his neck, even if he feels silly, patting himself down. "Why, I do declare," Stiles mutters, palming his throat.

"I could have you declared," says the body in the shadows. 

"You'd be doing me a favor."

There's the sound of a zipper, then the guy eases into view, his face revealed in small degrees by the dingy light above the sinks. "It'd be a favor for the rest of us, you mean." Derek's smirk isn't small; Stiles flips him the bird. 

"I'm integral to your success and you know it," Stiles says with a sniff. He studies Derek while Derek washes his hands: tight grey henley, leather jacket, nice jeans, and a pair of black Converse. "Got a hot date?"

"Bonding," Derek says. His face twists into a grimace, but it's there and gone in a blink.

"Here? How can you stand the--" Stiles makes a vague gesture at his head, then winces at Derek's frown.

"Erica wanted to go dancing."

Stiles chuckles. "I bet."

After a long, silent moment where neither one of them makes a move to leave, a raver comes busting through the door, his neon pink hair defying all laws of gravity. He startles at Derek and Stiles, then smirks and rolls his eyes. "Get a room, dudes."

Stiles snorts, but beside him, Derek fidgets. The two of them are closer than usual bathroom etiquette dictates, and if Stiles tipped forward a little, he'd be at the perfect kissing height. Derek would have to duck down, maybe. Steady Stiles with a hand on either side of his face, but...

"C'mon," Stiles murmurs, low enough for only Derek to hear, and tugs him into one of the stalls by his belt loop. 

Derek looks adorably befuddled as Stiles leans in to kiss him, pressing in close. Derek doesn't respond at first, but that's okay. Stiles is too busy getting his palms on Derek's body to care. Even though the henley, Derek is warm, solid. 

Riding the crest of his advantage, Stiles makes quick work of Derek's belt and jeans, until his cock springs free. "Commando? Nice."

"What are you doing?!" Derek hisses, eyes wide, hands clenching and unclenching on Stiles' hips. 

"Not making a liar out of myself," Stiles says, dropping to his knees, and sucks Derek down.

Stiles has done this a few times, mostly with Jake after lacrosse practice, but here works, too. The tile under his knees is familiar, as is the throb in his gut. Derek's uncut, though, thicker than Ian. The foreskin is soft, adding a whole new dimension Stiles wouldn't mind exploring in the future.

It doesn't take long for Stiles to find a rhythm, and then Stiles takes Derek's dick too far and tries to swallow around him. Derek chokes on the surprise, his grip skidding over Stiles' scalp, until he's coming down Stiles' throat in hot, thick spurts.

"Don't move," Stiles rasps, fumbling with his own jeans. His cock throbs in his hand and he has to rest his forehead against Derek's thigh as he jerks himself off. It only takes a dew seconds; he's even polite enough to clean up his come with a handful of toilet paper.

He rises to his feet with a minimum of wobbling. "That? Was awesome," he sing-songs.

Derek grabs him by the biceps, eyebrows drawn into a severe vee. "You are _insane_ ," he growls in the half second before his mouth is on Stiles'. This is kiss is darker, dirtier, like Derek's trying to chase down the taste of himself. Stiles sways when Derek pulls away, lungs burning. 

"But we're totally doing that again, right?" He can't hide his giddy grin.

"Fuck yes," Derek exhales, and drags him out of the bathroom.

**21**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** Puppy Play (no bestiality)  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48745.html

"I feel like I deserve a medal," Stiles said. "I am doing an excellent job of containing myself. I am the picture of restraint, the epitome of self-control."

Derek snorted.

"Dude. You're the one who wouldn't leave the witch alone."

Derek huffed and hopped onto their bed. He turned around once and flopped down, resting his head on his front paws. Because yeah. Paws were a thing now, at least for the next three days.

Stiles was _never_ going to let Derek forget this.

"I always wanted a dog," Stiles said as he moved around their bedroom, grabbing pajamas off the floor. It had been a looong night and he was exhausted, but he couldn't quite keep his attention off the giant wolf-- Jesus. _Derek_ \-- in their bed.

"This is gonna be awesome," Stiles said, sliding under the covers. He reached out and stroked over soft fur, and then laughed when the gesture garnered an eye roll that was so uncannily _Derek_ , that there was no mistaking who was in bed with him after all.

*

"This sucks."

It was 7 am. Stiles should still be _in bed_. Instead, he was standing outside their apartment, in threadbare pajamas, waiting on Derek to... He wasn't entirely sure what.

Derek kept walking in circles and sniffing the ground. He would freeze every few minutes though, and look back at Stiles, as if realizing Stiles was still there, before he repeated the entire process over again.

"Derek. Seriously?"

Derek made a whuffing noise that was awfully close to his normal "sighing-in-annoyance-at-Stiles" sound, gave him a long look, and finally slunk off behind a bush.

He growled warningly when Stiles tried to follow him.

"OH. Oooooh. Gotcha. Privacy. I can totally do privacy."

And then Stiles promptly lost ten minutes of his life that he would _never_ get back, when Mrs. Beasley walked up to him and made a point of handing him a bright pink poop bag. Which was probably barely large enough for the yippy Maltese that was currently trembling in her arms, much less...well, a wolf of Derek's size.

He made it work.

The subsequent lecture on responsible pet ownership-- no, she didn't care that Stiles was only pet sitting-- was a very definite low point in Stiles' life. And then she kicked him while he was down with an extremely judgy comment on his current state of dress, because _"how are you expecting to catch the eye of some nice young lady if you don't put any effort into it?"_

Just for the record. _Nothing says "I've got my life together" like an inside out shirt and a baggie full of dog shit._ Stiles texted Derek's phone a few minutes later. As an afterthought, he added, _we really need new neighbors._

*

Derek stood up slowly from his crouch. He was naked except for the studded collar Stiles had bought three days ago. It was still fastened securely around Derek's throat, glinting in the light of the full moon streaming through their bedroom window.

"Derek?"

Stiles gulped when Derek raised his head, eyes flashing red. Stiles squawked and stumbled when Derek stalked toward him, one hand wrenching the collar from around his neck.

"Oh fuck! Derek? Wait. If I did or said anything at any point over the last three days that..."

"Payback is a bitch," Derek growled, and then he was on Stiles, pushing him onto the bed. He dangled the collar in Stiles' face.

Stiles licked his lips and bared his throat in submission.

He could admit that he probably deserved whatever Derek did to him. The expedition to the park to play fetch yesterday? That had definitely been taking things too far. He knew that now.

Despite being human again, the growl that rumbled out of Derek was more animal than anything Stiles had heard from him as an actual wolf. Derek's hands were gentle though, as he clipped the collar around _Stiles'_ throat this time. "Gonna be a good boy for me?"

Stiles barked once in acknowledgement, and wiggled his ass.

"Fuck." And then Derek was slicing a claw through Stiles' clothes. He ripped them roughly away and tossed them on the floor. "You're going to feel so good when I mount you," Derek rasped, manipulating Stiles onto his hands and knees, and then Derek was settling behind him, wrapping one hand around Stiles' throat. He caressed the collar with a thumb, before coaxing Stiles to bend his neck back just a little more. "Good Bitch."

**22**

**Pairings:** Chris/Isaac  
 **Warning:** underage, age disparity, show-level violence  
 **Link to text chosen:** <http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-17317.html>

 

When he was teamed up with Chris Argent to hunt Beacon Hills' latest supernatural enemy, Isaac never expected he'd end up like this: in the middle of the forest, cheek pressed into blood-soaked earth, legs spread with a tongue in his ass.

It's been a year since Erica and Boyd ran off, reducing the Hale pack to three, and after working together to bring down the alpha pack, Derek, Scott and Chris have maintained an uneasy truce. So when a pack of barghests – monstrous, mythical canine beasts – began wreaking havoc on their town, they joined forces again in an effort to outsmart and overpower them.

Derek, unwilling to leave his uncle to his own devices, chose Peter to accompany him to the northeastern border of their territory. Needing to stay close to his mom and the Sheriff, Scott chose Allison and Stiles and claimed Beacon Hills proper.

"Guess that leaves you with me, kid," Chris says, clapping his hand on Isaac's shoulder.

Derek doesn't look happy but nods in agreement. "Let's get going. We don't have time to waste."

"Check in every 12 hours, no exceptions," Scott adds before they part ways.

Being paired up with Chris wouldn't be a problem except that Isaac has begun to see him in a different light over the past several months. Yes, his life's work is hunting werewolves, and his family has practically destroyed the Hale pack, in one way or another. But Isaac has witnessed Chris suffering the loss of his father, and no matter how evil Gerard was, he can relate to the pain.

He's also watched Chris with Allison, channeling his despair over losing his wife into helping his daughter come back from a place so dark no one really thought she could recover. It's this Chris Isaac thinks of late at night in the room of his foster parent's house, one hand in his boxers, the other shoved in his mouth to stifle his groan when he comes.

Isaac takes comfort in Chris' calm confidence, staying close when they're setting traps and tracking their prey. He leaps to Chris' defense without hesitation, cutting off a barghest's attack just moments before it rips into Chris with sharp claws and teeth.

When he's cornered by two giant snarling beasts after luring them out of their makeshift den, Isaac thinks of Chris' steely, clear eyes, not fear or the jagged gashes in his own flesh. They're trained on their targets when Chris steps out from his cover, levels his gun, and takes out one, then the next, with two clean shots.

Chris is on him as soon as the beasts hit the ground, checking his wounds, hands running over his rapidly-healing skin. Hearts racing, they stink of sweat and adrenaline. Before he can stop himself, Isaac surges forward, crashing their mouths together.

He expects Chris to stop him but the next thing he knows, they've fallen to the ground, tearing off their clothing, swallowing each other's moans. Stripped bare, Chris flips Isaac over, pulls his hips up and rubs his hard cock against his ass.

"Do you want this?"

"Yes," Isaac hisses, shifting back to meet Chris' thrusts. Moments later, Chris spreads him open and buries his face between his cheeks. Isaac shouts at the first touch of Chris' warm, wet tongue against his asshole.

Chris is brutal, not letting up for a minute. He gets Isaac soaking wet, works his tongue in as deep as he can, then slips his fingers in when he's able.

"Chris! I need–" Isaac chokes out.

"I'm not going to fuck you," Chris says, reaching between his legs, playing with the head of his cock. "I want you to come like this."

 

Chris' blunt teeth bite into his ass cheek and Isaac's gone, coming all over the ground. Covering Isaac's body with his own, Chris ruts against him, cock sliding easily through the wetness between his cheeks, until he loses control and comes in hot spurts on Isaac's ass, then collapses onto the forest floor.

Isaac wakes two hours later with Chris curled up around him, cock snug against his ass, both of them covered in leaves and mud. He fishes his phone out of his jeans and sees an all-clear message from Derek and another from Scott, asking them to check in.

All things considered, he can't reply with: _I have beard burns on my inner thighs, so I'd say last night went pretty well_. Instead, he types: _We got three. Be home soon_.

**23**

**Pairings:** Allison/Lydia/Erica  
 **Warning:** Alcohol mixed with sex, with consent  
 **Link to text chosen:** [This is the second time in a week I've woken up with your bra in my bed and I've had to sit and think about how it happened.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-33034.html)

It starts like this.

It’s Allison’s 21st birthday, which means it is her turn to get plastered. With people she trusts watching her back. That the definition of drinking responsibly.

She and Scott are permanently at the end of their on again-off again relationship, removing him from the list of possible drinking partners, along with most of the pack. 

Making this a-

“Girls’ Night!” Erica yells when Allison opens the door to her apartment. Erica is brandishing a large glass jug of what seems to be really terrible wine.

“Thought you had a rule about wine bottles with twist off caps?” Allison asks Lydia.

“Which I am perfectly willing to break in exchange for sangria,” Lydia says. “I also brought vodka, in case that doesn’t strike your fancy.”

Allison would break out her wine glasses, but frankly, she still doesn’t have wine glasses, so she pulls out three mugs instead, because frankly everything is better drunk out of mugs. 

Or so she says after her second mugful of sangria and that- wait was it one or two- vodka shots when Erica had crowed that needing a chaser was weak. Which is not fair because hello wolflihood. Wolf-wolvlihood? Eh, whatever. Although Erica seems to have found her own source of lowered inhibitions, probably somewhere in the empty bottles that had once made up Allison’s alcohol collection. Her head’s somehow cuddled up to Lydia’s knee, while Allison finds herself somehow lounging on the floor, hands behind her head. The floor is her friend. She laughs mostly to herself.

Then she’s struck with a brilliant idea. 1) She really needs someone to cuddle up to and look friends! Right there! and 2) They really need to go to a bar. Or someplace involving dancing. Which is actually two brilliant ideas.

So, Allison puts on dancing music and dragged Erica and Lydia to their feet. 

They’re flushed from dancing and laughing and alcohol when Allison leans down and kisses Erica. She blushed bright red, and it’s the best thing in the world. So, Allison kisses Lydia’s cheek as well. 

There’s a moment of silence, where they’re all wondering if this is really happening.

And it is. 

They become this bundle of hands and kisses and skin, stumbling their way to Allison’s bed. Allison’s pushes Lydia to lay on the bed, while Erica rests her head on Allison’s shoulder, chin digging into the meaty part.

“Are you sure?” Allison asks, playing with the hem of her shirt. “You want this and you’re not drunk and you’ll still be here tomorrow?”

Erica nods and starts biting her way down Allison’s neck, sweet, sucking kisses that leave Allison’s knees weak. “Best kind of birthday,” Lydia says, pulling Allison down to sigh into her mouth. “Of course I want this.”

Erica whispers in Allison’s ear, “We want this.”

Erica’s hands are smoothing their way down Allison’s sides to reach her hips and the heat of another body behind her leaves Allison shivering. Lydia kisses Allison once more, before licking across her lips with a satisfied smirk. Then Lydia and Erica are kissing, and Allison’s knees are weak, head coming back to loll against Erica’s shoulder. 

Lydia pushes her only far enough away for Lydia to pull her shirt off, and shimmy out of her skirt. Erica eases Allison’s top off, fingers fluttering against the skin of her breastbone. Then it’s all clasps and shaking hands and bra straps sliding down arms. 

Somehow Allison ends up straddling Lydia on the bed, Erica coming up behind her to cup Lydia’s breasts in her hands. It seems so natural to push Lydia to lie back, held up by Erica, and kiss and suck and lick her way down to the apex of Lydia’s legs. It’s simple enough to start of rhythm of licks, just missing her clitoris, teasing her gently, before plunging as deep as her tongue will go. A finger or two and broad swipes of Allison’s tongue and Lydia’s squirming and writhing, playing into Erica’s hands. With her other hand, Allison finds that perfect place with a finger and then two and then three, rutting to the sound of Lydia’s sweet moans. 

It’s perfect and easy and they curl up in a sticky pile of satiated limbs. It’s the start of something. 

Two weeks later, Allison gets a text from Erica:

This is the second time in a week I've woken up with your bra in my bed and I've had to sit and think about how it happened.

**24**

Pairings: Scott/Stiles  
Warning: none  
Link to text chosen:http://tfl.nu/4mcu

(815): I've noticed we have slowly begun to phase the "B" out of our Bromance.

 

Stiles had introduced Stiles Wednesdays after Allison and Scott broke up.

"I mean, we need some bro-time!" he'd said. "Some Scott+Stiles time. Not that all the werewolf stuff isn't great," he'd added hastily, "and I'm sure Isaac following you around is going to become the best thing ever, but I only have two handsets for Call Of Duty and I don't want to share."

Since then it had become the highlight of Scott's week. 

Full moon that week had been on a Wednesday so Scott headed over to Stiles's on Saturday morning about ten.

"He's not up yet," the Sheriff said when he answered the door.

"Am so," said a bleary voice behind him. Stiles stood at the top of the stairs in sleep pants and a baggy T-shirt. His hair was sticking up all over the place and he looked sleepy and confused. The Sheriff rolled his eyes.

"He's all yours," he said and disappeared back into his study, shutting the door firmly behind him.  
Scott grinned as Stiles made his way down the stairs.

"What time did you get to bed last night?" he asked as Stiles stumbled past him into the kitchen.

"Four, five maybe?" Stiles said, grabbing a carton of juice from the refrigerator and chugging half of it.

"You wanna watch a movie?" Scott asked.

"You're the best!" Stiles said, heading into the den. Scott grabbed a bottle of soda and followed him. Stiles was already slotting a disc into the player so Scott sat in his usual place on the couch and waited for Stiles to flop down next to him. He was a little disconcerted when Stiles sprawled flat out and rested his head on Scott's thigh as the movie began to play.

"Seriously, the best," he muttered and went out like a light. Scott pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over Stiles as best he could. Then he was left with the dilemma of what to do with his hands. The left one was easy, that could go on his thigh like normal, but Stiles had got his head right where Scott's hand should go. He tried leaning his arm along the back of the couch but it made his shoulder ache after a while, and when he shifted to try and ease it a bit, Stiles muttered a protest and brought his hand up so he was actually gripping Scott's thigh, holding it still. Scott froze, then gave up and rested his hand gently on Stiles's shoulder. Stiles stayed firmly asleep and Scott looked back at the movie. He'd seen it a million times before, and gradually his hand slipped up to play with Stiles's hair, carding his fingers through it and tracing gently over the curl of Stiles's ear.

He didn't notice when Stiles woke up, just gradually became aware that the slow and steady heartbeat of sleep had shifted into something quicker and altogether more alert. When Stiles realised he knew he was awake, he pushed himself up, still with his hand on Scott's thigh, causing Scott's hand to trail down his chest and end up resting over his quickened heartbeat.

"I've noticed we have slowly begun to phase the "B" out of our Bromance," Stiles said, with a slightly nervous smile. "That deliberate?"

Instead of answering, Scott leaned in and kissed him, flicking his tongue over Stiles's lower lip. Stiles opened up without hesitating. He tasted of the juice he'd drunk before the film started; he was sleep-warm and soft under Scott's hand and Scott gave in to the swell of arousal he'd been feeling since Stiles had put his head on his thigh. Stiles shifted to straddle him, grinding against Scott's cock as he fisted both hands in Scott's hair and turned the kiss deep and dirty. Scott slid his hand down Stiles's chest, feeling the muscles move under his hand as he moved to rub Stiles's cock through his sleep pants.

Stiles gasped and bucked up into Scott's hand, coming with a gasp and startling Scott's own orgasm out of him.

"I'd kind of thought that would last a bit longer," Stiles said breathlessly, resting his forehead against Scott's.

"You surprised me," Scott said. 

"Oh, you wait til next time," Stiles said, kissing the tip of Scott's nose. Scott moved to capture Stiles's mouth with his own.

"Don't make me wait long," he said.

**25**

**Pairing: Peter/Stiles**  
 **Link to text chosen:** [(813): you were crying and the really sympathetic homeless man offered you a sip of his whiskey. who was i to stop you?](%E2%80%9D)

 

When Stiles opens his eyes, he immediately closes them again when the pain registers. He rolls over with a groan and burrows himself further into the sheets. 

“There’s water and a painkiller on the side table,” said Peter. 

A hand appears from under the blankets swatting around for the glass before finding its target and disappearing underneath the sheets again. “Oh god, I only remember bits and pieces from last night,” said Stiles muffled by the blankets. 

“It was certainly interesting,” replied Peter as he dodges the pillow that was launched in his direction. 

Stiles pokes his head out from the sheets, “Fuck you, old man.”

*****

This was not happening. 

His super-sized homemade-go-go-juice, his Honey Boo Boo knowledge is all Peter’s fault, was supposed to help him power through another couple of pages of his thesis. He swears that his brain sent the signal to pick up the cup, not knock it all over his laptop. It’s like his limbs have a mind of their own.

There’s a towel soaking up the mess on the keyboard, but no matter how many times he’s pushed the power button, the laptop won’t power-on. 

Fuck. 

He pulls his hair and paces around the table before pulling out his phone to consult Google, the master of the universe. An hour later, his laptop is in pieces and there are screws missing, like they grew legs, and walked away from him. Stiles texts Peter asking if he’s finished with his business meeting. When he doesn’t get a reply, Stiles opens up the liquor cabinet and starts pouring the liquor to calm his nerves.

The laptop had the draft of his thesis made of his blood, sweat and manly tears. Sure, he could write it again, but he’ll never be able to get the wording the same. He’d be like those parents who’d buy their kid a new hamster after the old one died. It’s not the same.

****

The sun started to set and Peter still had not replied to his text so he started the wobbly trek to Peter’s office. Maybe they’d know where he is.

“Spare some pennies, sir?”

Stiles turned to the homeless man sitting on the ground. He pulled out his wallet and handed the guy a couple dollars.  
“What’s the matter, kid? Ya look like someone chick called it quits with ya.”

“It’s worse than that. It’s like the asteroid headed towards the Earth, only no one’s got a suit powerful enough to blow the thing to pieces,” says Stiles as he sat down on the ground next to the guy. 

“It can’t be that bad, lad.” 

“This is like six pouches of frozen daquiri later and still not enough, kind of bad,” replies Stiles. 

“Daquiri! A young lad like ya needs a manly drink, none of them girly stuff,” the homeless man proceeds to dig into his pockets where he pulls out a bottle of coke and offers Stiles a coffee cup. “Go on. Sip it. Don’t chug it like cough syrup!”

****

“Oh god, did I actually drink it? Why didn’t you stop me?”

“The really sympathetic homeless man offered you a sip of his whiskey. Who was I to stop you?” smirked Peter. 

“You bastard.”

Peter makes a noise of agreement, “One and only. Now, you can think about how to repay me when I tell you that I salvaged the data off your hard drive. I highly suggest something from the toy box, the nipple clamps perhaps.”

Stiles throws the blankets off himself and proceeds to pounce on Peter, “You fixed it!?” 

“Your thesis isn’t lost, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Oh god, I got up too fast. I’m going to hurl.”

“I swear, Stiles, if you throw up anywhere not in the toilet, I’m going to beat your ass a new shade of red _with_ the clamps on,” threatens Peter as he drags Stiles towards the bathroom. 

Stiles never made it all the way to the bathroom. 

**26**

**Pairings:** Danny/Stiles, background Stiles/Other  
 **Warning:** None  
 **Link to text chosen:**  
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49046.html  
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-30575.html

 

“Danny!” Stiles yelled over the loud base rhythms in the club, arms waving, sloshing his drink everywhere.

Saving the drink from Stiles, Danny took a sniff before swallowing the rest and sat next to Stiles. 

“No more for you, Stiles. You can't have nice things when you’re this drunk. And vodka is a nice thing.”

“I'm not drunk, but trying to get there.”

“I don't think you should. Why are you sitting here, is the dark, instead of enjoying yourself out there with the rest?” Danny nodded to the dance floor, never taking his eyes off Stiles.

“Just don't feel like it tonight, having some...personal issues.” 

Stiles was working off some energy, drumming his fingers on the small table. For all his high strung hyper-ness, Stiles could fall into a funk with the best of them and Danny hoped whatever bugged him wouldn’t put him in a long depression. Sadly, Danny also noticed Scott clueless to his best friend's problems.

“Want to talk about it?” Danny asked.

Stiles eyed him while giving it some thought. “Okay, but Danny I not bringing it up because you're, you know, gay but -”

_Oh please, not be the sex talk._

“I think I am being taken advantage of...sexually”

_Oh shit._

“Stiles, if someone is hurting -”

“No, no,” Stiles waved with both hands, stopping Danny's train of thought. “Not like that. I mean every time I have been willing but, it's like I'm a dirty secret. I'm told to keep discreet. That he's not ready for people to know.”

Danny glared across the dance floor, trying to figure out which of their friends would treat Stiles like that.

“No Danny, not one of them. He's...on the team.”

Looking back at Stiles, going through the team roster in his head, one name stood out. 

“Evens.”

Stiles’s wide eyes was enough of an answer for Danny. 

“How did...he's done this before. Damn-it. I was trying to convince myself that maybe he was straight and just using me to get off.”

“Oh please, Evans will not just _come_ out of the closet. He will fall out, 69ing someone, with two fingers in his starving asshole, wearing cum splattered lady gaga sunglasses...weeping. Stiles, I know you're new to sexual relationships, but guys who are just trying to get their rock off aren't that good at...what's that look for?” If looks could kill, Danny was sure his head would have exploded. 

“I wouldn't know since I never got to...reap the rewards. You know what, I don't feel much like being out anymore, I'll catch you later,” Stiles stood to leave, but Danny pulled him back into the chair, before he could take a step.

“Stiles, he isn’t worth getting pissed off over. Evans is an ass.”

“No Danny, I thought…Look, I’m pissed at myself. I should’ve known. I am use to being the ugly duckling in a pack of GQ models.”

“Is that what you think of yourself?” 

“Look at them,” Stiles gestured to the group on the dance floor, “I don’t even rate on the same level as you guys.”

“You got it wrong Stiles, to everyone, you are at our level, and it can scare people. And I’m glad others aren’t sniffing around, spending time with you gives you a whole new level of sexy in my eyes.”

“Wait…what?” 

“I’m new the group, and didn’t want to challenge the dynamics of the pack.”

That got Stiles chuckling, “At the risk of sounding like Derek, they’re not wolves. Jackson might have an issue but, he’s an ass to me.”

“So, if I was to kiss you here, where the pack could see, I won’t find claws in my shoulder?”

“No guarantees about these deadly claws,” Stiles said lifting a hand, ‘clawing’ the air twice.

Danny leaned closer to Stiles, “I’ll take my chances.”

Apparently that was all the coaxing Stiles needed to close the gap with a searing vodka flavored kiss that Danny quickly got drunk from. A kiss that Danny only broke off when he felt Stiles hand tug on his belt.

“No Stiles, if anyone’s getting any tonight it’s you.”

“Oh really?” Stiles said smirking, “Is that a promise?” 

 

Watching Stiles eyes rollback, as he stroked his cock to completion, was one of the hottest things Danny ever did in a club. 

And later that night, when Stiles rode his cock in the back seat of the Jeep, Danny thought about sending Evans a Thank-You card.

After all, the ass brought Stiles closer to him. 

**27**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles/Erica (established Derek/Stiles)  
 **Warning:** threesome  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49138.html

If Stiles had to guess he would’ve thought that the whole “mate” thing would mean more exclusivity, jealousy, possessiveness. Definitely monogamy. But after it was official (yes, there was a truly embarrassing ceremony), Derek actually seemed _less_ possessive. There was still just as much rough, post-clusterfuck sex and growls of _mine, mine_ and the neverending hickeys. Stiles would’ve been seriously disappointed if those had gone away.

But one minute Stiles is caught staring just a few seconds too long at Erica stripping for the full moon, the next he’s shirtless with Erica straddling him while Derek looks on approvingly.

“And this is okay?” Stiles asks, trying to crane his head toward Derek while Erica’s got his lower lip clamped firmly between distressingly pointy teeth.

Derek smiles – small but genuine, and that more than anything else relieves Stiles’ anxiety. “Do you want her?”

Erica lets go of Stiles’ lip, and he splutters, “Well, yeah, but not, like, for good.”

Derek and Erica both laugh, and Stiles knows he’s missed something again. Fuckin’ _werewolves_.

Derek comes up behind Stiles and rubs broad palms down his arms. “This is just for fun,” he whispers.

“I’m _so_ glad we both made out with him, though,” Erica snarks at Stiles. “I feel like that really brought us together.”

“Both made—What? _When_?”

“Forever ago,” Erica snorts. “Soon after he turned me. It lasted, like, five seconds, though I did get some tongue action.”

Stiles whips his head around to Derek, who just shrugs. “Mistakes were made.”

That is not beyond the realm of belief.

After that, Stiles loses track of time and just experiences a cascade of sensations instead: Erica rubbing against him; Derek’s fingers working him open; the roll of a condom; Derek’s first thrust making Stiles sink into Erica.

They’re lying on their sides on the bed so there’s not a lot of room for movement, but Stiles has Derek rocking deep into him from behind, his open mouth pressed to the back of Stiles’ neck, while Erica has one leg thrown over Stiles’ hip and is grinding against him. Stiles brings one hand up to cup her face and worms the other one down between their bodies to press his thumb against her clit.

She cries out and rocks down harder, pushing Stiles back against Derek and they both moan. “Get her off,” Derek growls low in Stiles’ ear. “Make her come and you’ll get more.”

Stiles can’t imagine being able to take more of _anything_ , but he focuses on Erica, finding the right rhythm with his thumb while she pants and works herself on his cock. It doesn’t take long before Erica’s coming, squeezing so tight around Stiles that it’s only the blunt pain of Derek’s teeth sinking into his shoulder that keeps Stiles from losing it.

As soon as Erica stops shaking, she and Derek roll simultaneously so that Erica’s on her back, Stiles still inside her, and Derek’s on top of them both. Erica nods once and Derek thrusts so deep that Stiles sees stars.

Each hard thrust shoves Stiles into Erica, but she doesn’t seem to mind as long as Stiles doesn’t grind against her oversensitive clit. It’s _so_ far past too much, Derek’s thick length splitting him open and pushing him over and over again into Erica’s wet heat, that Stiles has to bury his head against Erica’s neck and just try to hold on.

Erica recovers fast, and soon she’s moving her hips in counterpoint to Derek’s thrusts, and pressed between them, Stiles feels every nerve in his body light up. He’s so close, teetering right on the knife edge when Derek changes the angle. The pleasure shoots straight through Stiles so hard his toes curl and Erica clenches around him, drawing it out until he’s sure he’ll die from it.

Time slips away from him again, and he’s vaguely aware of Derek coming with a deep growl, then two pairs of hands moving his limp body. There’s a moment when all the warmth surrounding him pulls away and he whimpers until they’re back around him, reversed this time: Derek against his front and Erica pressed to his back.

“Mine,” Derek whispers, pulling Stiles against his chest. Erica hums in agreement, rubbing Stiles’ sides but not going anywhere near the bites and bruises Derek left around his neck and shoulders. Stiles reaches back to hold Erica’s hand, and he thinks he gets it now. Derek doesn’t need to be possessive; Stiles is already his, for good.

**28**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** barebacking  
 **Link to text chosen:** <http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49058.html>

Stiles has jerked off to fantasies of Derek Hale an embarrassing number of times, so when Derek appears on the edge of the lacrosse field wearing a leather jacket and a broody frown, Stiles's ability to catch the ball evaporates. The ridiculous local legend that Derek's a werewolf is the only way to explain this level of savage virility.

"God, let's run into the wild and just eat berries and have sex all the time," Stiles murmurs.

Derek stares, an ear raised like he'd heard something.

Nah.

*

Stiles is woken by a howl. Adrenaline-frenzied, he nearly trips on the blanket in his haste to get to the window. 

_Let's run into the wild..._

No.

Nope.

_...and eat berries..._

When the wolf on the ground below howls again at him in recognition, Stiles just _knows_ , and he runs downstairs wearing only a t-shirt and underwear. 

He opens the front door to the wolf stalking up the porch with a determined grace and a gleam in its eye that's eerily human. The summer air is warm on his bare legs as he steps out onto the paint-peeled wood, and the wolf licks his fingers and cajoles its way between his thighs until Stiles is mounted on its back. It's instinct to weave his fingers into the glossy black fur, and when he's got a firm grip the wolf takes off into the night, running through empty roads until they've abandoned the town. 

Stiles catches the musty scent of the wolf's body when he ducks to avoid a branch as he's carried into the woods. The forest is thick with a darkness he never glimpses from his house, the moonlight transforming the trees into silent pantomimes. 

The wolf unloads him onto a flannel blanket in a clearing and lies down beside him. There's a bowl of berries and Stiles eats one, savoring the burst of sweetness in his mouth. He rests his head on a cushion and the wolf licks the sticky juice from his hand. Stiles sleeps.

*  
It's still night when he wakes. The wolf is gone. 

Instead, Derek lies next to him, his body unclothed and covered with soft black hair. Derek feeds him berries until his eyes go dark, and then he tugs Stiles's lips open and kisses him. 

"Have you lain with a man before?"

Stiles considers lying to Derek and blushes. "No."

Derek thumbs Stiles's chin up, exposing his throat. Stiles doesn't dare breathe as Derek's lips, careful and deliberate, drift along his neck.

"And me?" Derek runs a hand down Stiles's belly, pausing when he reaches the elastic of his underwear. "Will you open your body for me?"

Stiles's dick hardens painfully. He tries to nod _yes_ , but with Derek's thumb pressing his chin up, he manages only the barest movement. 

But Derek catches it. He drives his tongue deep between Stiles's lips while he pulls off Stiles's underwear and slides between his loosened thighs. Above them the interlocking branches of the trees tangle into strange patterns. Derek's body covers his so entirely that he must look like nothing more than an assembly of pale limbs wrapped around a great bulk.

He tightens when Derek touches the cleft of his ass, but Derek is patient, tracing insistent circles around his rim. His finger has been slicked and as the press deepens Stiles finds himself rutting against Derek, begging softly. Derek kisses and pets him and works him open until Stiles's head goes muddy and he discovers he's babbling, but Derek just sucks the words off his lips and smiles.

"Been watching you for so long. When you said you wanted me to bring you here, to do this," Derek shifts his weight and spreads Stiles's legs wider, then presses the head of his prick against his hole, "I nearly went crazy."

It's only by biting Derek's arm that Stiles can silence his shout. 

"Shh," Derek shushes him, burying his face in Stiles's neck. "Shh."

It turns good enough that Stiles jerks his hips, wanting. Derek smiles against his mouth, grabs his ass and forces his hips up at a new angle. He hits Stiles in just the right place, then grows relentless, fucking into him with a measured brutality. They come in unison: Derek's fingers gripping tight enough to leave bruises, Stiles nipping at lips that gasp tender obscenities.

When the last of their orgasms leave them boneless, Derek rolls Stiles onto his chest and grins. 

"Come, and run away with me into the wild."

**29**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles, mentions of Stiles/Scott and Stiles/Isaac/Erica  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-40425.html 

Stiles arches onto Derek’s cock, gasping at the stretch of him. He’s been waiting for this to happen for days, wearing down Derek’s ridiculous hang-ups and issues until Derek got so frustrated he’s now fucking Stiles on the living room couch. It’s fucking awesome.

“Ugh!” Stiles hears Allison say and the door slams shut again. Derek stops thrusting and Stiles glares at him.

“Don’t you dare stop now,” he pants, grinning when Derek thrusts once more, just right. “Fuck, that’s good,” Stiles groans.

“You are steam-cleaning that couch Stiles!” Isaac shouts through the door. “And I expected better of you, Derek!”

Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles ends up laughing as he comes, hiccuping a little. Derek shudders and pushes in deep one last time, grunting and gasping as he comes. He manages to pull out and lower himself to lie on Stiles’ chest. Stiles’ hand comes up to pet at Derek’s hair, compulsively twirling the strands between his fingers. 

“Fuck, okay,” Stiles pants. “Up, off. You’re heavy.”

Derek groans as he levers himself up and off. Stiles sits up, closing his eyes as the blood rushes to his head again. 

When they’re dressed they leave the living room and head into the kitchen, where the two packs are waiting for them. Allison is still looking pretty traumatised, Scott is patting her hand comfortingly. 

“Dude, put a sign up or something.”

“Because the noises weren’t giving it away?” Derek asked, frowning at Isaac. 

“Besides, don’t act like you’ve never seen me naked before,” Stiles says, leering at Isaac.

“Not the point,” Isaac grumbles. Stiles walks over to him and gropes him, until Isaac is smirking and kissing Stiles. 

“Doesn’t his sluttishness bother you?” Allison asks Derek.

“No,” Derek says, shaking his head.

“I’ll have you know that I am the slutty bisexual glue that holds the packs together. You’d be lost and also horny without me,” Stiles replies, grinning. 

“We’re so grateful for the service you provide,” Allison says, shaking her head.

“I am selfless. Also, I did offer you two first refusal, and it’s a standing offer should you ever decide-”

“No, no, you know what? I think we’re good,” Allison says. She turns to Scott. “You seem surprisingly ok with this. How are you ok with this?”

Scott goes bright red and mumbles something.

“No!” Allison gasps. 

“It was while we were broken up, I was lonely and horny and Stiles was there and-”

“It’s ok, sweetie, I just don’t need to hear the details,” Allison says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“But it means I’ll be ok with a threesome, if you wanted?” Scott offers. Allison shakes her head again, but she’s smiling. Scott kisses her, pulling her close.

“You know, I’d like to hear the details,” Erica says as she walks in, sitting on Derek’s lap. “I’ll also take you up on that offer, Stiles, if it’s still open.”

“Obviously. Give me about 15, just had a go.” 

Erica pouts.

“Blame your alpha, he wore me out.” 

Erica turned her pout on Derek who just smirked and squeezed her. 

“I’m sure Stiles will be worth the wait,” says Derek.

“You know I am,” Stiles replies. “Hey, Isaac, you could join us, if you wanted, right Erica?”

Erica nodded eagerly, and Stiles didn’t want to call the look _wolfish_ for obvious reasons but the analogy was an apt one. 

Isaac stood up and grabbed Erica’s hand.

“I don’t need fifteen minutes, though,” Isaac pointed out. Erica squealed delightedly as Isaac picked her up and headed to the bedroom. 

“Hey!” Stiles shouted. He got up and followed them, “I don’t want sloppy seconds.” 

“Then get up here, then, maybe put that mouth of yours to some use!” Erica shouted. 

“Sorry guys,” Stiles said. “Duty calls.”

Allison turned to Scott. “I think we should go.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, faintly. Derek just laughed.

**30**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** underage  
 **Link to text chosen:** [Link](http://bit.ly/Znyz46)

"Stiles!" Derek growled from where he was brooding by Stiles's dresser. "Can't you do this faster?"

"Oh, _faster_?" Stiles clutched his chest and gaped at Derek. "What a concept! It never would have occurred to me that the solution to all my problems was to just speed up." He glared and returned to the computer. "No, _Derek_ , I can't do it any faster. Though maybe you could spend this time contemplating how your constant interruptions might be affecting my productivity."

Derek stalked forward and leaned in, watching the screen over Stiles's shoulder. Stiles swiveled around and elbowed him in the ribs. "Breathing in my ear isn't helping, either."

Derek sent him a dour look. "This is taking forever."

"Yeah, well, the internet is a big place."

"You could go faster," Derek said after watching him type for a few minutes. "If you were properly motivated."

"No," Stiles said. "No. You are flat-out wrong. I've got your wolf breath down my neck and bed calling my name and school in the morning and an essay to finish at some point between now and then and an English quiz tomorrow and I couldn't possibly be more motivated right now, okay? The only way I could possibly go faster is if you'd stop interrupting me for five minutes."

Derek's mouth curved into a lopsided smile that made Stiles shiver. Sometimes, that smile meant very good things -- and sometimes, its meaning was very, very bad. "I could make you work faster."

Stiles's mouth went dry, but he rolled his eyes and pushed at Derek's shoulder. "Listen to my heart. Tell me if I'm lying. Getting all scary-threatening isn't going to get you what you want any faster. In fact, there's a good chance you won't get it at all. I'm petty that way."

Derek's smile just spread, showing teeth. "It's not a threat."

Stiles expected him to follow up with that tired old cliche, _It's a promise._ He was already rolling his eyes, formulating a witty retort to have at the ready. But Derek didn't say anything else, and Stiles was definitely not expecting him to get down onto his knees, push his way past Stiles's legs, and wedge himself into the space under the desk.

"Uh." Stiles stared at him, just a shadowed smudge of hair and pale skin between Stiles's knees. "If you're planning on doing what I think you're doing--"

Derek pulled his chair in so he was sitting flush at the desk. He couldn't see anything going on down there anymore, but there was no missing the way Derek's hands went straight for his fly.

"--Which, okay, apparently yes, you are, and much as it pains me to say this, because the last thing I want right now is for you to stop, I feel it only fair to point out that blowing me is not exactly going to help my levels of concentration."

"Yes it will." Derek's voice was muffled from beneath the desk. Or maybe because he was pulling Stiles's cock out and rubbing his lips up and down it.

"Jesus _Christ_."

Derek dragged his tongue in a long stripe up Stiles's shaft. "No, I really don't think--"

"It will work," Derek said, "because if you stop, so do I."

Stiles stared down at the surface of the desk, in the general location that he thought Derek was. His breath still ghosted across Stiles's skin and his fingers circled the base, but that was it.

Slowly, tentatively, Stiles slid the keyboard back in front of him and started typing a search query. As soon as the keys started clacking, Derek closed his mouth around Stiles's cock and swallowed him down.

"Oh my God," Stiles gasped. "Oh my God. You're going to kill me."

Derek just laughed around him and sucked him deeper.

~  
From: Scott  
 _Hv u figurd ot a thesis 4 yr eng ppr yet?_

From: Stiles  
 _Turned it in last week._

From: Scott  
 _WAT? Howd u gt done so erly?!?!_

From: Stiles  
 _The lack of pants and amount of productivity in my life right now is amazing._

From: Scott  
 _Dats nt an answr_

From: Stiles  
 _Yes it is  
g2g working on chem report_

Stiles threw the phone onto his bed, grabbed Derek by the hair, and pulled him back between his legs, laughing, "Okay, okay, I'm done, now back to work. This report isn't going to write itself, you know."

**31**

**Pairings:** Erica/Allison  
 **Warning:** Violence  
 **Link to text chosen:**[here](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48947.html)

The thing was Allison is obsessed. The flash of a fist coming at her face, that animal pull in her gut that made her drop, shoulder dipping so she could slam into the other girl. 

“You look nice today.” John said giving her a once-over that was neither welcome nor subtle. Allison gave him a bland smile. 

She had taken over the family business because she was an only child and it was expected. John was a snivelling little worm of a man who always thought that she could be manipulated because she had a vagina. One day she was going to cut his hand off and wear it like a glove. 

Real passion was that clearing, ringed by ancient trees and often half hidden in the shadows of an dilapidated house. Someone had dragged out some flood lights so that they were thrown into stark light and shadow while they fought. Allison had been introduced by Lydia, a petite ginger with perfect hair and make-up, heels clicking, a lawyer of some sort. 

Allison could vividly remember Lydia’s knee connecting with her stomach driving all the breath from her in a rush that left her feeling sick. Lydia’s smile had been predatory, one small hand snarled in Allison’s hair pulling her face up until her neck and scalp screamed at the maltreatment. “Do you give?” 

Allison had gotten better since then. Learned just how dirty she could fight. Learned quickly that no one would thank her for pulling her punches. 

“Thank you John.” 

Days like today, where it felt like there was nitro-glycerine in her veins she would ditch work and drive out to the house. In a different universe she had been meant for so much more.

Today she wasn’t alone. Erica stood here staring up at the cloudless sky, a fall of blonde hair shining like a halo around her pale face. They never talked about personal lives, Allison knew Lydia, but didn’t know Erica until her breaks had been squeaking and recognized the high-school drop-out working secretary for the garage. 

“Wanna fight?” Erica asked her as Allison slammed the door to her SUV (the breaks worked fine now), she was looking up through the heavy make-up that made her look like she was still a trashy teen-aged punk.

Allison never fought in her work clothes. Low heels kicked off and rocks tearing her socks. Erica had let her rings and earrings drop to the ground before lunging. She took a hard hit to the ribs that sent pain shooting up her side. Allison twisted and brought her knee up, hitting Erica square in the thigh. That knocked her off her balance and Allison lunged, throwing her over her shoulder. 

Allison was on top of her in a moment. 

“Give.” She snarled. 

Erica twisted into the hold, forcing her wrist until Allison could feel the strain on the joint. They kissed hard and messy. This was new, exciting. 

Allison let her body land on Erica’s. She grunted into the kiss when hands twisted in her hair, tugging. They rut together messily, thighs shoved between each other’s legs, heat of Erica’s cunt barely there through the cotton of Allison’s work pants and Erica’s leggings. Erica surged up and pulled Allison’s sensible sweater up and over her head. 

It was a race to get undressed and neither of them were being gentle about it, she snagged a hand in Erica’s top and stretched it in her haste to get it off. 

Erica slipped fingers inside her, Allison bit down on the inside curve of her breast. White hot sensation lighting her up from the inside out. The angle made her wrist ache but she got two fingers on Erica’s clit rubbing harshly so that the other woman choked on a curse. This too was a fight and Allison thrilled in savagery of it as much as the victory.

Erica clenched around her soaking herself as she came. Allison’s own orgasm was like a bolt from the blue, hitting her in all the right spots and leaving her panting. 

Allison regarded Erica’s lazy grin completely naked and splayed out on the ground. She could feel bruises forming on her body. She felt powerful. She felt alive. _This_ was where she wanted to be. “First sunburned tits and it’s only April, it’s going to be one hell of a summer.” Erica said, sleazy and cheap. Allison figured she couldn’t judge while the woman’s hands still smelled like sex so she shrugged awkwardly.

 

**32**

**Pairings:** Scott/Isaac  
 **Warning:** knotting; implied mates  
 **Link to text chosen:** [(815): I've noticed we have slowly begun to phase the "B" out of our Bromance.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48993.html)

 

Scott's first clue really should've been when Stiles points it out.

Stiles slams his locker shut. "Will you just go talk to him already?"

"Who?" 

Stiles flaps his hand towards the end of the hall where Isaac is hanging out with Boyd.

"You and I have plans today," Scott says firmly. It's been this _thing_ between them lately, and Scott doesn't want there to be any more hurt feelings if he takes off with Isaac again.

"The bright light from the hearts in your eyes is giving me a wicked headache." Stiles rubs his temple. "Maybe it'll tone down if you go hug it out or something. This new bromance shouldn't be causing me actual physical pain."

"You're my bromance," Scott says immediately. Stiles snorts but knocks his shoulder against Scott's.

Down the hall, a small grin plays at the corner of Isaac's mouth, even as he focuses on what Boyd's saying. It's like a sudden punch to Scott's gut, and all he wants is to go kiss it bigger. 

"Oh my god," Stiles says grumpily, tugging Scott's arm so he'll follow.

Much later, when they're alone, Isaac smiles a lot wider. So does Scott.

 

**

 

The second clue is when Derek shows up at Scott's door, his shirt a bloody mess.

"Peter's taking Isaac to Deaton's."

Scott is out of the house and into the Camaro in an instant.

Derek won't say much, other than it was an alpha from the pack. They got away, though Isaac has a couple deep scratches. Derek insists he's going to be fine.

"Then why are you worrying me like this?" Scott exclaims indignantly.

Derek merely huffs as he pulls into the parking lot, not responding further.

Isaac is being patched up. He's clearly in pain but smiles bravely when Scott walks in and hurries over.

Scott's entire body floods with relief when he sees, can sense, Isaac'll be okay. His heart thumps faster when Isaac grabs his hand to give it a quick squeeze.

Derek hangs back and rolls his eyes.

 

**

 

The third clue comes from Isaac himself.

After a lacrosse practice they're the only ones left in the locker room. Coach had took them aside to yell about them being a couple of jokers who keep distracting each other on the field.

"Wanna go to a movie tonight?" Isaac asks, pulling on a clean shirt.

"Sure," Scott replies, buttoning his jeans. He laughs when he thinks about what Stiles would say. "Is this another step in our epic bromance?"

Isaac moves closer into Scott's space; it's like all the air is suddenly sucked out of the room, leaving Scott feeling dizzy. 

"Well," Isaac drawls slowly, "I've noticed we've been phasing the 'b' out of our bromance, don't you think?"

Scott answers by grabbing Isaac and pulling him closer, crushing a kiss to his mouth.

They don't make it to a movie that night.

**

The final clue is from Scott's own body right in the middle of a fantastic fuck.

Scott loves sex with Isaac -- matching werewolf stamina is freaking awesome. Isaac's strong, curious, and wants to push limits. He'll go for _harder_ , _faster_ , as long as Scott's willing. Which Scott totally is, always.

It's different tonight; it's still fun, but it's _more_. Isaac is on all fours on Scott's bed with Scott draped over him, thrusting in from behind. Scott's balls slap against Isaac's ass, and Scott's groaning about how incredible Isaac is, when the base of his dick starts to swell.

Scott is shocked to stillness. "I--I'm--"

"Fuck _yes_." Isaac moans, clenching around Scott's cock, then pushes back onto Scott's thick knot.

"Oh my god." Scott breathes shakily, dropping his forehead to Isaac's shoulder. He digs blunt nails into Isaac's hips, rutting against him while Isaac rocks back. Neither are able to move much more, but Scott rides on the euphoria of knowing Isaac made this happen, wants it. Wants _him_. 

They're a gasping, trembling mess after Scott comes a second time, his knot still holding them together.

Isaac's arms collapse, chest falling to the mattress. He laughs into the covers. "You know this means we're way past bromance, right?"

"I know." Scott shifts so they can stretch their legs out. He kisses the back of Isaac's neck. It's a strange but wonderful thing to realise, and he can't hold back. "Think this is more than just a little romance too."

Isaac turns his head to accept a sloppy kiss. "Glad you caught on, McCall."

**33**

**Pairings:** Danny/Stiles  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-18088.html

Danny should've never said yes in the first place. It was a terrible idea. He should've never listened to Lydia. Just because she no longer considered Stiles dirt beneath her heels didn't mean she was without guile when she suggested he stop looking for boyfriends at Jungle and instead direct his attention a little closer to home. She'd just wanted to foster Stiles on him. And he fell for it and went out with Stiles once, and then again because the date hadn't actually been a disaster, and again because he'd had fun, and again because... he simply wanted to. And now here he was at the edge of the preserve, his butt parked on the hood of the Jeep, with Stiles running his mouth and making grabby hands at the bottle of Jack parked between them.

Danny grimaced."You just compared your dick to a Twizzler. In no way, shape, or form is that a turn on." 

"Aw, Danny, Danny-boy, Dan my man -"

"Stop calling me that."

Stiles grinned up at Danny from where he was half-draped over the hood of the jeep. "Stop fronting, you know you want this."

"You're horrible."

Stiles' shit-eating grin stretched so wide he ended up looking like a demented hedgehog. "I know," he preened, as if it was the greatest achievement of his life yet. It probably was in his head. Stiles nudged Danny's knee. "You still gonna let me suck you, right?"

And the terrible thing was that Danny was going to do just that, he's going to let Stiles put his mouth on him and slobber all over his dick because once Stiles got over his initial eager puppy reaction to being allowed to touch he was going to do his best to fry Danny's brain. He was a quick learner and thorough in his pursuit of knowledge. Danny took the bottle from Stiles' unresisting hands and dumped it on the ground where it landed with a dull thud." Come here."

Stiles scrambled upright and pushed Danny where he wanted him, sitting on the hood with his legs dangling so Stiles could push in between them - and have room to work, quote. "Just lean back and enjoy the ride."

Stiles fingers went for his fly without hesitation and Danny let his eyes fall shut and let Stiles take over. There was too much slobber at first, like Danny expected, but then Stiles found his rhythm and things got good, really really good. Stiles had this thing he liked to do, he loved holding just the head of Danny's dick in his mouth and then sliding his tongue against it, just this wet, achingly slow tease of touch, over and over and over. It made Danny twist and arch and curse under his breath and he could feel Stiles' smug little grin against his dick as he pulled off. 

"You okay there?" Stiles teased, mouth spit slick and shining. "Feel free to give pointers." 

Danny groaned, pushing his hands in Stiles' hair, palms cradling his head, and urged him upright. "Jesus, come up here," Danny coaxed until Stiles pushed himself up on his hands and crowded in close. Stiles' mouth was wet and soft and Danny pushed in deep, tilting Stiles' head so he could slide their lips together perfectly, warm and so sweet. Stiles' was eager in this too, making pleased little noises into Danny's mouth and trying to crawl into Danny's lap just to get closer.

Maybe Danny did owe Lydia a thank you instead, something expensive.

**34**

**Pairings:** Danny/Isaac  
 **Warning:** None?  
 **Link to text chosen:**[This one.](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48995.html)

Danny laughs as he’s pushed into the hall closet. Isaac catches a glimpse of his warm brown eyes and infectious smile before the door shuts and engulfs them in darkness. He steps forward with his hands outstretched until he feels Danny’s soft cotton shirt under his fingertips. They slide down to thumb open the button of Danny’s jeans.

“Really?” Danny says softly. “The entire pack is in the backyard. Someone is going to hear us.”

“So?”

Isaac falls to his knees, pulling Danny’s pants down around his thighs. With light touches and kitten licks, he teases Danny to hardness. He doesn’t stop until he feels Danny’s hand in his hair, silently asking for more. Isaac smiles to himself and sits back on his heels.

“Someone might hear us,” He says innocently into the darkness.

Danny growls. “Isaac.”

His hand tightens in Isaac’s hair and Danny pulls him forward again. His cock bumps against Isaac’s lips and Isaac laughs softly before obediently sucking him down. Above him, Danny groans and thrusts deeper. He allows it, hands grasping at Danny’s hips tightly, already losing himself to the taste and feel of the cock in his mouth.

Danny sets a pace, guiding Isaac’s movements, and Isaac follows it, eager to give his mate what he wants, what they both want. Doing this, giving this to Danny does it for Isaac like nothing else. He loves that he’s the one to make Danny lose control, to make him greedy in a way that he never is over anything else. It makes heat pool low in his belly, makes his cock ache with the need to be touched just thinking about.

When he knows Danny is getting close Isaac pulls back, moving one of his hands away from Danny’s waist to jack him quick and rough as he suckled the head. Danny’s groans get breathier, louder, his hand tightening to the point of pain in Isaac’s hair.

He cums with a loud moan, hips stuttering forward of their own volition, pressing himself deeper into Isaac’s mouth. Isaac whimpers and lets his other hand fall away to palm at his own cock as he swallows his mate’s release.

*

It’s still another half-hour before they finally make their way back outside to join the rest of the pack for their barbecue and when they do, nobody seems impressed with them. Isaac ignores the judgmental looks and goes to fix a plate.

His phone vibrates halfway down the line.

**From _Erica_**  
 _You slut._

Isaac looks up, scanning the group of people until he finds her sitting at a table near the line of trees with Boyd at her side. When she sees him looking, she smirks and waggles a finger at him. _Naughty_ , she mouths at him but she looks too amused for the admonishment to hold any weight.

Danny’s hand presses against the small of his back, urging him further down the line. Isaac steps forward, looking back down at his phone to quickly type out a response. 

It’s easy to tell when she reads it because her laughter is loud enough to draw everyone's attention.

**To _Erica_**  
 _Don't act like you're not jealous that I disappeared into the closet to blow my mate. Werewolf marriage = all the cock I want._

 

**35**

**Pairings:** Stiles/Derek?  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-29922.html

Stiles glances at the text from Erica and frowns.

The rest of the pack had blown him off for _The Avengers_ Re-Watch and Dress-Up event with excuses of work or other commitments but Stiles had been counting on Erica at least to show up in her sweet Black Widow costume to complement the awesome Iron Man suit t-shirt Stiles had donned for the occasion. 

And now Erica couldn’t make it. 

Stiles buys extra-buttered popcorn and a large Mountain Dew to console himself. He gives the attendant (who flicks an appreciative nod at his t-shirt) his ticket then files into the theatre, taking a seat in the back row so he can check out his fellow costumed geeks. He spots an impressive-looking Hulk and a few Iron Mans as well as a couple of Black Widows, (none with cleavage as impressive as Erica who will now be sorry she missed out on that account).

He is alone in the back row when the movie starts. About five minutes in, though, Stiles notices Captain America slipping into a seat at the end of his row.

He stares. He can’t help it. Because...wow. 

It’s dark and Stiles can’t see much but he can see the way the guy fills out the spandex-lycra costume – broad shoulders, chiselled chest. Well-groomed scruff shows where the mask doesn’t cover which sort of reminds Stiles of a certain sour wolf but he quickly shakes that thought off and enjoys the view.

He pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and taps out a text to Erica: _There is a guy dressed as Captain America in the theatre. I want to make out with him even though I have no idea what he looks like. Wish me luck, I’m going in._

Grabbing his drink and snack, he hops two seats over. 

“Popcorn?” Stiles offers, tilting the bag toward the superhero.

America gives him a look and Stiles is sure there’s a raised eyebrow behind the part of the mask that covers the guy’s forehead. He can’t tell what color the guy’s eyes are in this light but he thinks they’re maybe a blue-green or hazel. Hmph. 

They sit watching the movie, munching on Stiles’ buttered popcorn. Another twenty minutes into the film, Stiles suddenly feels a hand at his crotch, the heel of a palm gently kneading into his groin. 

Well, fuck. 

It’s not long before fingers deftly pull down his zipper and pull out his not surprisingly stiffening-on-the-way-to-becoming-very-hard cock. The fingers stroke his length gently at first, thumb teasing over his cockhead, smearing the pre-come there. A warm and butter-greasy palm then wraps around his shaft and begins jerking him. The strokes are measured at first, testing limits, then become more eager and determined as though the guy wants to see how quickly he can get Stiles off.

Stiles is sure a new world record is set because he feels the pinpricks of orgasm building after what seems like only seconds. He is vaguely aware of some action happening on-screen and a vibration in his pocket as his hips jerk then still and he shoots hot and sticky. 

America wipes his hand off on Stiles’ shirt. He tears a piece off the popcorn bag Stiles is clutching in post-orgasm bliss, writes something on it (and, really, where does one carry a freakin’ pen while wearing skin-tight lycra?) and shoves it at Stiles before getting up and leaving the theatre. (Stiles feels validated when he sees there’s no hiding a _boner_ in that costume.)

Stiles uses his phone to light up the scrap of paper: _Meet me. Bathroom._

He chucks the popcorn to the floor, sparing a moment’s guilty thought to whoever stumbles on that little gem later, seeing how his jizz now coats the whole of one side of the bag (yeah, _eww_ ) before tucking himself in, zipping up and following.

On route to the follow-up hook-up, he remembers his phone vibrating and pulls up the text message from Erica:

_u know that costume-clad CA is derek, right?_

Stile stares at the text for a full minute before pocketing his phone and racing toward the bathroom. 

Because there’s a sexy sour wolf in spandex-lycra waiting for him there. And Stiles plans on peeling off those blue tights and giving Captain Werewolf America a blow job that would put Iron Man’s superpowers to utter freakin’ shame.

**36**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** None  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49011.html

 

Okay, so fine. In hindsight, Stiles can appreciate why this may not be the best plan he’s ever devised. Sue him. But sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.

Considering his current state of mind, Stiles thinks he did pretty well, all things considered. He managed to get out of the hospital just fine, ‘cause he’s stealthy and shit, no matter how many times Derek likes to claim otherwise. He just...failed to work out how he was going to get to the preserve _after_ that. Minor details.

Except Stiles can’t really walk all that well (he thinks those pain meds are finally kicking in because his thinking’s getting fuzzy), and he’s stumbling down the street like he’s completely wasted. Which is fairly accurate, actually. There’s a bus shack a few yards away, but letting go of the building he’s been leaning against is apparently a poor plan, and Stiles falls to the ground in a graceless heap before he’s even taken a step.

Fuck. He’s like a sitting duck. Or, well, a face-planted duck. Whatever.

He really should’ve thought this through better.

With a groan, Stiles manages to at least roll over onto his back before passing out.

***

When Stiles wakes, it’s to a pillow under his face and a blanket across his shoulders. Everything hurts. It takes several moments to realize that he’s home, lying on his living room couch, not back in the hospital. Huh.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a chance to appreciate it.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” a voice says from nearby. Derek. Of course.

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?”

It’s probably rhetoric. Doesn’t mean it’s gonna stop him from responding though. “You guys were up against some crazy-ass sidhe. I couldn’t just leave you alone out there.”

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to say. Thankfully, Stiles falls asleep halfway through Derek’s rant, saving him the headache. For now.

***

Unsurprisingly, when his dad finds out what happened, Stiles gets grounded for a month. But he doesn’t make Stiles go back to the hospital, so at least there’s that.

***

He and Derek argue three separate times about the incident before finally declaring it a dead topic. Their last fight isn’t the worst they’ve ever had, but at least Stiles knows he can always count on amazing make-up sex.

“Fuck,” Stiles groans as Derek works a third finger into him, dragging hot, wet kisses down his chest. Stiles’ cock is straining against his belly, leaking precome. He’s so ready for Derek to fuck him, he can barely think straight. “Need you inside me, right the fuck now.”

Derek pulls back to smirk at him, and Stiles wonders if he’s going to get his revenge now. But then he’s pulling his fingers free, moving to slick his cock instead. Derek pushes into him slowly, but Stiles is having none of that tonight.

“No, no, come on, _fuck_ me Derek. Wanna feel you take me apart,” he gasps out, thrusting his hips up. Derek huffs out a soft laugh, but complies with his request. He sets an almost brutal pace, but Stiles loves every second of it, moaning and crying out as Derek fills him, driving him towards the edge.

Stiles can tell when Derek is close, and he instinctively reaches down to bring himself off. But Derek slaps his hand away, replacing it with his own instead. It takes less than a minute before Stiles comes with a shout, spilling over Derek’s hand and his own stomach, Derek following him over the edge almost immediately.

Once they’ve finished cleaning up, Derek presses up behind him and curls a possessive arm around Stiles’s waist. Stiles is nearly asleep when he suddenly remembers something he keeps forgetting to ask Derek.

“How did you know where to find me that night?”

Derek is quiet for so long that Stiles wonders if he actually fell asleep instead. But just before Stiles is about to give up the cause, he hears Derek say, “You don't remember? You called me at midnight, laughing like an idiot. Apparently you consider breaking out of the hospital to be a lifetime achievement.”

He hesitates for a moment before saying, “Well, it was pretty fucking awesome, man. I deserve at least a medal.”

The laughter that fills the room is a pleasant surprise, and Stiles falls asleep with a smile on his face for the first time in a week.


	3. Group C (with warnings)

**37**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49003.html

 

“Yeah because nothing screams stable like,” Stiles said, gasping the words out as Derek fucked into him, “yelling at a guy in bar because last time—oh god do that again.” He breathed in shakily. “Because last time you hooked up he stole your underwear.”

Derek made a noise that could have been a laugh but also could have been a growl or just heavy breathing. 

“That only proves that you’re an idiot,” Derek said, punctuating it with a flex of his hips that made Stiles’s spine arch up off the bed. 

“I want you to be our emissary. The pack trusts you.” Derek slid out almost all the way out and made him wait, like a big fucking tease. Stiles opened his mouth to complain and Derek slammed back in, knocking Stiles’s teeth together.

Stiles reached up to hold on to the headboard to get enough leverage to push down into Derek’s thrusts. 

Derek pushed in as far as he could, hips working tiny circles against Stiles’s ass. The stretch was perfect, raw and overwhelming. Derek’s lips pressed sloppily against his ear, wet and hot, and his breath was like a brand on his neck.

“I trust you.” It was the angle, definitely not the sudden attack of feelings that made Stiles jerk helplessly against Derek’s hands on his hips.

“Derek, I need to, I’m so close.”

“Do it. Come on, Stiles, touch yourself.” Stiles hand detached itself from the headboard and floated down to grab his dick. He only managed maybe three strokes before he came all over Derek’s abs. Stiles flopped back and watched Derek thrust in until he groaned and collapsed on top of Stiles.

Stiles was still catching his breath when Derek pulled out and rolled off the bed to get rid of the condom and grab some tissues. Derek wiped half-heartedly at the mess on Stiles’s stomach before dropping the dirty tissues off the side of the bed and face-planting in the mattress.

Stiles dozed for a while until Derek’s fidgeting woke up him up.

“Are you really mad about the underwear?” Derek’s voice was muffled because his face was shoved into the pillow but Stiles could see the tips of his ears where they were flushed pink.

“You mean, am I mad at you for jerking it to a face-full of my dirty boxers?” Stiles tried to keep a straight face. “Or for being a dirty pervert who gets hard just from smelling-” Derek rolled over suddenly, like the freaky ninja-werewolf he was, caging Stiles in and burying his face in Stiles’s neck. 

“Shut up,” Derek told Stiles’s collarbone.

“What? Are you embarrassed that the smell of my day-old come makes your dick drip all over the place?” 

“Is this your idea of talking dirty, because it could use some work.” 

“Don’t even front, I know that’s not a banana in your pocket, dude. Mostly because you aren’t wearing pants and thus don’t have any pockets. My dirty talk is totally doing it for you.” Stiles did a victorious little wiggle.

“I’m serious, shut up.” Derek pulled back to glare at him. Stiles quirked an eyebrow.

“Make me.”

Derek did.

**38**

**Pairings:** Scott/Allison  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49019.html

 

Allison applied another coat of lipstick, cherry red, and slid her bra strap back into place. Ok, so technically yes she was wearing a red tank top to the spotlight party. But under it was a yellow bra and green panties. She was only going to see if the rumors were true. 

At the party Lydia and Jackson danced, their hands disappearing under matching shades of red. Stiles was on the phone in a red, green, and yellow plaid shirt. 

“Oof,” a drink splashed down her top, “Sorry?”

“Scott,” she didn’t shriek but a few heads turned. “Coke really doesn’t come out of silk.”

“Allison,” he dropped the cup and slid his arm to her waist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“Looking for someone?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Stiles. But he keeps walking around. I’m really sorry.”

She sighed and looked down. “It’s fine.”

He smiled and grabbed her hand, and she felt her resolve melt. His damned sweet eyes and hopeful smile always weakened her. She smiled and shook her head.

“It’s fine. I’ll just,” she began to walk. He followed.

“You wore red.”

Allison nodded. “I did.”

They made it to the bathroom and Scott closed the door, locked it. Then swallowed when Allison pulled her shirt off. “And yellow.”

She smiled and looked up at his reflection. “I did.”

Scott took a stepped behind her. “Any other color?”

She turned off the water; soaked the silk. She turned, leaned against the sink, “Wanna find out?”

Scott took a step closer, “Yeah?”

Allison kissed his cheek, “Yeah.” 

She pulled his shirt off and trailed her nails down his chest. He’d filled out since the last time they were together. She felt his fingers against her belly and her zipper pulled down. He buried his head in her neck and breathed deep, and his hands shook as they slid into her jeans. “I miss you.”

“I know,” she whispered. She looked him in the eyes, “Me too.”

He kissed her hard, his teeth catching her lip and his tongue sliding against hers. He pulled her jeans off and groaned when she rolled her hips into his touch. “Scott,” she whispered and cupped his face to kiss him. 

She fumbled at his jeans, then laughed when he cursed and did it himself. His fingers wrapped around the string of her panties. “Green?” he breath caught and she pulled his wallet from his jeans. 

“Just in case,” she said and pulled out the condom. “You were here.”

“Hoped you would be,” he whispered against her ear. He turned them until her back hit the wall, and she stepped out of her jeans. The neon green panties followed. “You’re beautiful.”

She breathed his name and pulled him close until he stepped out of his jeans and boxers. His trailed his fingers down her belly and he found her heat. His fingers danced over her lips until they were sticky wet. She rolled her hips again and kissed him, sighed when his fingers moved over her clit. 

She licked his jaw, then neck, then placed open-mouthed kisses on his chest as she slid down his body and bit lightly at his belly. “I miss us,” she mouthed against his thigh. 

Before Scott could answer she kissed the hard line of his cock, tongued at the precum at the tip, then circled the head. She lined his length with wet kisses, then pulled him into her mouth. She pulled off and popped the condom in her mouth, slid down his length. Scott wrapped a hand around her hair and pulled, biting his lip as he rolled his hips. “Alli, please.”

She grinned around the tip and ran her hand over his slicked cock, then stood. She ran her hand up his chest, wet with sweat and her kisses. 

He slid into her, then pulled out and kissed her bared throat. They both groaned when he slid back in. He kept the achingly slow pace until she broke, until she begged him to moved faster and clawed her hands loose. He let go and wrapped her legs around his waist; licked into her mouth and fucked into her cunt. 

She whispered, “I love you,” and he slid his thumb over her clit. 

“I love you, too.” He sped up, his cock and his fingers, and swallowed her scream as she came. She bit his neck, hard, and he groaned her name as the orgasm gripped him. 

**39**

**Pairings:** Allison/Random Guy  
 **Warning:** Implied Incest  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-47107.html

Allison wasn't even sure whose party it was, all she remembered was that she'd been invited, and had been sober before she'd got there. All it had taken were a few shots, and half a bottle of vodka before she found herself upstairs in a bedroom, and as he locked the door, she pressed her lips against his, grinding her hips into him. He moved his hands over her body, and she closed her eyes. She loved being in control, but not tonight. She wanted him to take control. He was older than her, that much she could tell, and that helped the illusion. Expertly, he removed her clothes, and pushed her down onto the bed, entering her roughly and dryly, hurting her, but soon the pain was replaced by pleasure, and he was kissing her neck.

But she wasn't here in this bedroom, with this guy.

She was back at home, staring into his blue eyes. Her fingers were running through his soft, brown hair. His stubble scratched at her face, and it only made her even more sensitive. She wanted him to know she wasn't a little girl any more. She didn't have her mother to run to, no one in her family did. She had to be the woman of the house, and she didn't mind. She could take care of herself. She could take care of him.

She wasn't sure when things had changed for her... it had to have been after the funeral. When it was just the two of them in the house, and suddenly, she started seeing things differently. Maybe it was just a strange manifestation of her grief, or something she'd felt deep down and never realised. He would hold her when she was sad, she'd kiss his cheek whenever he seemed low, but all the while, she'd be getting wet, and it wouldn't be long before she'd have to excuse herself, running up to the bathroom to lock the door, and masturbate furiously, until the intense desire subsided. She'd never masterbated before, never saw the point of it, but when the imagery was so hot, and something she'd never get to experience, she had to roll with it.

His nails dug into her hips as he slammed into her, and she screamed with every thrust, never daring to open her eyes, and silencing herself only by opening her mouth, their tongues dancing together. He tasted of sweat, and in Allison's mind he smelt of gunpowder, and dirt.

"You're so hot, baby..." He whispered into her ear, biting the lobe, and she couldn't keep the smile off her face. She was doing a good job. She could keep the facade up, she could make him happy.

"I can be anything you want me to be." She whispered to him, almost encouraging the guy to do the same, licking his lobe, and gasping as he pinched her nipple. "Anything at all..." Her words were a jumbled mess, partly because of the alcohol slurring her words, partly for the pleasure coarsing through her body. She wanted more, she never wanted this to end. She never wanted to open her eyes.

"I'm so close..." He said huskily, and his hand left her breast to reach down, rubbing her clit in tight circles as he continued thrusting in and out. "You want me to pull out?"

"Nnn...." She could barely force the words out, rocking back and forth against his dick, willing herself to get off too. "I want... I... Can I come....?" She muttered. 

"Go for it, slut. Cum on daddy's dick." The words were all the approval she needed, and did nothing but help the picture in her mind. This wasn't just some guy, this was Chris. This was her father. This wasn't just some bedroom, this was her's. He'd come to her looking for comfort, and she'd given him what he needed. What they both needed. Screaming, she felt her juices soak the bed, and slowly she came down from her orgasm. Opening her eyes, she was disappointed, and remembering that it was just an illusion, she began sobering up quickly, and she felt ashamed. That she'd done this, that she'd wanted it to be him at all.

"Get the fuck out." She snapped, her eyes narrowing, and she grabbed for her clothes. Rolling his eyes, the guy shrugged, pulled zipped up his pants, and unlocked the door.

"Crazy bitch..." He muttered, slamming the door behind him.

**40**

**Pairings:** Allison/Lydia/Stiles  
 **Warning:** impaired consent (alcohol)  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-2237.html

“I get turned down more than a collar. Where are the desperate boys? I need to crawl to them or find them or something.”

Stiles wobbled on the front porch steps despite Lydia’s firm grip on one arm and Allison’s on the other. 

“I mean,” he continued, as Lydia snatched the keys from his hand and unlocked the door to his house, “it’s my birthday. Scott and Derek are out doing werewolfy things and I just have you two. I love you two. I do, but Scott is my best friend. But I’m not a werewolf! We’re humans. We’re awesome. We’re awesomely human. Team Human!”

Allison smiled at Stiles fondly. “You’re so drunk.”

“I’m allowed! I’m twenty-one, still a virgin. It’s my birthday!”

Stiles stumbled across the threshold, foot catching on air, limbs flailing uselessly.

“We know it’s your birthday,” Lydia huffed, her nails digging in to Stiles’ arm to keep him upright. “And we’re well aware that you’re a virgin.”

“If Derek would get his head out of his ass and his cock into my ass then things would be okay,” Stiles slurred. “But he won’t and I….”

“Stiles,” Lydia said sharply, eyeing him. 

Stiles bit his lip, his eyes stinging. He allowed the girls to manhandle him up the stairs to his room and push him to the bed.

“I’m sad and drunk,” Stiles said, looking down at his hands, his vision blurry, his body swaying in time with his heartbeat.

“Yes, we know,” Lydia said, “but cheer up. We got you a present.”

Stiles perked up at that. “You already bought me drinks.”

“This is different,” Allison said, smiling. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

Lydia produced a rectangular package from somewhere, and dropped it in his lap. His fingers fumbled with the ribbon, but he managed to open it. 

It was a dildo.

“Another reminder of how pathetically lonely I am. Really, thank you.”

“That’s only part of the present,” Allison said, sitting next to him on the bed. 

“Part of it?”

“Don’t be dense,” Lydia said, moving to his other side. “Do you want us to use it on you?”

It took a minute for Lydia’s offer to register and when it did Stiles gulped, suddenly much more alert than before, his cock already hard in his jeans from the heat of Allison pressing into his arm and Lydia’s breathy promise in his ear. 

“You would?”

They nodded. 

“Do you know how?”

“So sweet,” Lydia said. “Just trust us.”

“But Scott and Derek -”

“Aren’t here.” Allison reminded him softly. “Team Human, remember?”

Stiles licked his lips. “Yeah, okay. Yeah.”

It all went very fast from there. 

Soon, Stiles was naked on his knees. Lydia’s bare breasts pressed against his back and she wrapped one arm around his chest, anchoring him, keeping him from flying apart as she pumped the lube-slicked dildo in and out of his ass. Allison cupped his face, kissed him, her mouth warm and wet, tongue soft as it slid past his lips. He gripped Allison’s hips, his cock sliding across her stomach, leaving smears of pre-come on her perfect skin. He gasped and moaned into her mouth on each thrust from Lydia, each twist of Lydia’s wrist, each encouraging whisper against his shoulder. 

“You’re so good, Stiles,” Lydia purred. “Look at you taking it. You love it. I knew you’d love it.”

Lydia fucked him deep, the toy stretching him wide, and he trembled at the delicious burn of being so full.  
“Oh god,” he gasped. “Oh _fuck_.”

Allison pulled away, smiled at him wickedly, and dropped to her hands and knees. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut when Allison sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth. 

“Watch her,” Lydia whispered. “Watch her suck you.”

Stiles opened his eyes, compelled by Lydia’s command, and looked down at Allison’s shiny red lips wrapped around his dick, how every time Lydia thrust the dildo into him, he slid further into Allison’s wide mouth.

Allison sucked him while Lydia pumped into him. It was amazing, too much, Allison’s wet mouth, and Lydia’s accurate thrusts. Stiles shook, broke into pieces. 

“I’m going to….”

“Come for us, Stiles,” Lydia commanded. 

Allison pulled off with one last lick to the head of his cock and Stiles cried out, back arching, coming. It shot onto Allison’s face, thick streaks sliding down her cheeks and chin. She licked it up, pulled Stiles down to kiss him again. 

Lydia followed, smiling, curled around his back and petted his hair.

**41**

[this work removed due to failure to comply with the rules]

**42**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles, background Allison/Scott  
 **Warning:** Underage (circa mid-Season 2), dub-con due to intoxication, lack of concern for possible drunk-driving  
 **Link to text chosen:**  
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-29852.html  
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-43183.html  
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-21992.html

 

It was nearing dawn when Stiles tiptoed up the stairs to his room, shoes in his hand. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he had the agility of a were’ so that he could scale the grape arbor and climb directly into his bedroom through the window. With luck, his Dad would assume he’d been home most of the night. If not, well, he always had Scott as a fallback excuse.

Shucking his jeans, he threw himself down on his mattress with a wince, curled up on his side and took out his phone, checking for messages. Yup, there was one from Scott:

(Scott:) Sorry for bailing, bro! Saw Allison on the dance floor. She wanted to talk, so we went for a walk.

Stiles rolled his eyes. Yeah right, talk. He grinned and shot back a reply:

(630): Don't worry I drank 7 more beers & brought home a guy that bit me at the bar.

That should get a rise out of old Scotty-boy. Stiles chuckled.

They’d been at the club less than an hour before Scott had flaked out on him, leaving Stiles sitting at the bar, flirting with the bartenders and trying to cajole them into selling him something stronger than a coke. He’d looked up to find his favourite creepy werewolf, Derek Hale, seated at the far end of the bar, scowling into his drink, preternaturally still against the backdrop of the noisy and bustling dance-floor. He looked – odd. And sad. So very out of place in the riot of vibrant light and motion and colour.

Of COURSE Stiles couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie (so to speak – heh!) so he’d put his life on the line, pulled up a stool and warmly offered to let Derek buy him a beer. He guessed Derek must have been startled into compliance – he’d have to remember to try that again – and more surprisingly, after Stiles’ enthusiastic greeting and relentless chatter, it hadn’t taken more than – what, three consecutive drinks? Does alcohol even work on werewolves? - before Mr. Broody-face had pulled himself out his gloom and started to respond.

Sure, it had been one- or two-word answers at first. But the turnaround had come when they touched on the topic of the mass of humanity crowding the club. “They’re happy,” Derek shrugged. “Busy. Sometimes it’s just easier being alone in the middle of a crowd, than being alone on my own.” And thus began an hours-long discussion on the semantic and philosophical differences between being a loner, being lonely, and being alone. A topic, it turns out, on which they both had much to say.

Once they’d waded through THAT emotional minefield, it didn’t seem like either of them was surprised at the end of the night when Stiles had opened the passenger door of the Camaro and calmly seated himself next to Derek. Derek certainly didn’t kick Stiles out. They’d totally got each other, Stiles thought, as he’d followed Derek up the staircase to his room and crawled on top of him on the bed. Derek’s arms had come up around him, their hips aligned and their lips met, and if there was a better way to bond a pack, Stiles’ brain was too flooded with teenaged hormones to think of it.

Stiles flushed with a rush of pleasure at the memories of bare skin, hands and mouths, tongues and teeth. He raised a hand to his neck, aware that he had a brilliant set of bruises to prove his adventure. Neither of them had shown much restraint once the clothes had come off, and Stiles wasn’t really sure which of them had looked more wrecked at the end of it, after they’d both had a turn at the plundering and ravaging and general getting to know each other really, really, REALLY well. Multiple times.

They were totally friends now. At least. He’d even scored a phone number – that made it “something”, right? His thumbs tapped out a quick message to Derek:  
.  
(514): Thanks for having me and my emotional baggage over last night.

Stiles rolled over onto his back, winced, and quickly sent out a follow-up text: 

(509): I would also like to inform you that I can no longer lay on my back because my tailbone is bruised from the nightstand. Good job.

With a final smile, Stiles set down his phone, pulled the blankets over his head, and went to sleep. 

**43**

**Pairings:** Stiles/Derek  
 **Warning:** underage  
 **Link to text chosen:**<http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-2216.html>

 

It is 3 A.M. and Derek is celebrating his solitude by doing circuits. His phone buzzes on the counter across the room.

 _u busy?_ It’s from Stiles. Stiles who should be asleep, who has school in a few hours, but who is awake and texting Derek. It’s not the first time, and Derek knows this game well enough by now.

 _not exactly_ He sends back. He throws his phone on back on the counter, returns to his push-ups, and ignores the buzzing that signals a nearly immediate response from Stiles.

Moments later, his phone vibrates again and Derek surrenders. He opens the messages to read _so come over_ followed by _also, i may or may not be wearing a cape right now. hint: i am._

Derek exhales through his nose. He throws on a clean shirt, and allows himself 5 minutes before responding with _is that supposed to be sexy?_

Derek remembers all too well the evening when Stiles had attempted to introduce him to sexting.

 _how is that even a question?_ Stiles sends back and then _of course it’s supposed to be sexy_

Derek is still mentally composing an appropriate response to that when he receives _just get your furry ass over here_

He takes his time. He does his best to convince himself that he has better things to do than drop everything for a booty call, that his life has not actually come to this, that he’d be better off just ignoring his phone for the rest of the night. It’s a lost cause though, and he frowns at his windshield the entire drive across town.

When he climbs through the window, the lights are off and Stiles is sitting in eerie illumination from his computer screen. His mouth hanging open and he is indeed wearing a cape. And not much more.

It looks like a child’s costume, cheap red synthetic fabric clasped around the neck with weak velcro. It’s comically short, cutting off just above the waistband of Stiles’s boxer shorts.

It’s decidedly unsexy.

He catches Stiles when he launches from the desk chair and lets him kiss him anyway. Pulls him close and slides his hands down all that bare skin to slide those boxers down a teasing inch.

Stiles groans half laughing when Derek’s hands move from his hips up to his chest. Derek slips his fingers under the collar of the absurd cape, uses it to pull Stiles close and suck a bruising mark on his skin. He begins to undo the velcro closure when Stiles grabs his hands and says “Can we uh...can we leave it on?”

“Seriously?” Derek pleads.

Stiles gives him a crooked grin that Derek can totally resist, really he can, he just chooses not to. He huffs and says “You know you look ridiculous.”

Stiles nods and unzips Derek’s jeans. “Ridiculously sexy,” he corrects, and slides Derek’s jeans off his hips, lets them fall to the floor. Derek closes his eyes as they kiss so he doesn’t have to think about whether or not Stiles is right.

Derek has Stiles’s cock in his hand when curiosity gets the best of him. “Where the hell did you even find this thing?”

“Unf, closet,” Stiles says into Derek’s neck. “Was looking for, shit, this one thing and I found this instead, which-” Derek kisses him to shut him up, falls back against the wall when Stiles drops to his knees.

“Admit it, I look fucking awesome,” he jacks Derek’s cock, grinning up at him. Derek is unable to properly verbalize his agreement.

Stiles swallows him down, looks pleased about it when Derek fucks into his mouth. He jerks his own cock roughly as Derek gathers a handful of cape and tugs it, straining the collar. Derek can hear the hooks of velcro giving way over the sound of Stiles choking on his cock as he comes down his throat.

Derek releases his grip and Stiles falls back against the side of his bed, panting as his quick strokes bring his own release. Derek grabs the edge of the cape and cleans the come off of Stiles’s stomach with it. “Seriously?” Stiles protests, but he smiles when Derek smirks and throws an arm around his red satiny shoulders.

**44**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** underage  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-6492.html

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Derek half growled, half groaned breathlessly as he stared down at the slightly puffy face looking avariciously back up at him.

Stiles grinned, all wet lips and teeth, his mouth a bit slack and just a bit of drool at one corner. "Yep, so wanna do this," he slurred before smashing his nose into Derek's jean-covered crotch.

"Jesus, Stiles!"

Stiles giggled and fiddled with the other man's belt buckle to no success. From experience, Derek know that Stiles was a bit high from having a filling replaced--drugs, even the legal kind, always made him a bit goofy--so he wasn't surprised that his fingers were fumbling. "Is this like a chastity belt or something?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek nudged Stiles' hands and face away and quickly undid his belt, then popped the button on his jeans. Before he could reach for the zipper, Stiles was pulling it down, pulling down his jeans and his boxers and...oh.

Hot, wet, swollen lips around the head of his cock and he was hard as a rock already.

Bracing his legs and placing one hand on Stiles' head, telling himself not to pull his hair because that might make him stop, he stared intently down at the young man going to town on his cock, sucking and licking, drooling and grunting, driving him crazy. His hands found Derek's ass, shoving the boxer shorts down even farther to squeeze him, and Derek groaned and thrust his hips forward on instinct.

Before he knew it or could warn Stiles, the head of his dick punched into his throat. "Fuck, sorry!" He tried to pull back, but Stiles just grinned with his eyes and breathed roughly through his nose and pulled him towards him harder until the base of his cock was being tickled by those lips.

Then Stiles pulled slowly back until the head popped free, gasped for breath, and dove down again.

Fuck, he could see the thick head of his cock in Stiles' throat and the pressure...oh, fuck...

Derek pumped, he couldn't help himself, and Stiles just took it and squeezed his ass and hummed and slobbered on his dick, and Derek came long before he planned to, spilling down that tight, hot, clenching throat.

When Stiles pulled back, panting harshly, trembling all over, but still smiling, a bead of cum slipped over his slack lower lip and he used a finger to push it back into his mouth. "Oops."

"Jesus..." Shaking from head to foot, Derek collapsed back onto Stiles' bed and stared at him. They'd never done that before. He'd never had anyone deep throat him. "Um...you want...?" He gestured vaguely in the direction of Stiles' crotch, then caught the scent of his cum, and smirked.

"Yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball. Came in my pants." Shoving himself to his feet, Stiles swayed for a minute, then massaged his throat and made a slight face. "Ow."

"Shit, I hurt you." Suddenly concerned, Derek reached for him and dragged him onto his lap, ignoring both their sticky groins. Carefully placing a hand on Stiles' throat he drew out some of the pain.

"It's okay," Stiles mumbled. "It was fun. Just...probably should have waited for the novocaine to wear off before giving you head. I think your penis touched my lung."

Derek snorted and, ignoring the black lines crawling up his arm and the accompanying ache, kissed his lover gently on his numb lips.

**45**

**Pairings:** Sterek  
 **Link to text chosen:** [(x)](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49177.html)

 

The first photograph came shortly after 7:00 A.M.. Derek was drinking his morning coffee while waiting for Isaac to get ready and looking at HuffPo’s headlines on his iPad when his phone dinged. He grabbed it without looking and promptly choked on his coffee when he realized what he’d been sent. 

It was a photograph of Stiles’ hand wrapped firmly around his morning wood, apropos of nothing. His fingers, skinny and long, stretched around the flushed skin of his dick in an erotic splay. Pre-cum dripped from his head to his stomach, and the morning light made him look like a perverse Renaissance painting. 

A second picture arrived while he was trying to wrap his head around the first - this one of Stiles’ release covering his hands and abdomen, and dripping from his spent cock.

Derek didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.

The third photograph, arriving shortly after 10:00 A.M., was of Stiles fellating his pen. His cheeks were hollowed out and alit by lighting that made them look sharp enough to cut glass. It was a coy parody of a selfie, and Stiles’ honey eyes were laden with promise. 

Derek was aroused, but he wasn’t sure if Stiles was toying with him or making an actual offer, so he once again ignored it.

The forth picture arrived around lunch. It was obviously taken in the school cafeteria and was an abstract shot of Stiles’ jaw line, neck, and clavicle dipping into his shirt collar. It was innocent compared to the other three images, but visually more erotic. His skin looked bioluminescent, with a smattering of moles and dips and lines that looked tailor made for his tongue, and Derek _wanted._

The fifth picture came ten minutes later and was of Stiles jerking off in what looked to be the boys’ locker room. 

The sixth picture - god save him - followed only moments after the fifth and was of Stiles sucking his cum-dirty fingers and looking at the camera under the fan of his lashes. 

Derek was confused, hard as rock, and unsure whether to be annoyed or entertained. After his eighteenth birthday, Stiles started hanging around the loft more, constantly pushing at Derek’s patience and boundaries with his unyielding _Stilesness,_ but never more than that. 

Until today. 

Three texts from Isaac arrived in rapid fire:  
 _Derek, make him stop. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I know it’s got to do w/you._

_Derek. D:_

_He smells like he just jerked off._

Derek snorted, thinking of the photographs of Stiles doing just that. Two more texts arrived.

_Oh God, he’s giving a banana a BJ and making Scott take a picture. People are LOOKING. I can’t tell if Scott’s gunna cry or run away._

_Scott just ran away. Blaming you forever. Scarred for life._

His phone chimed a moment later with the seventh photograph: a shot of Stiles fellating a banana. Derek couldn’t help it, he laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed until his stomach clenched and tears rimmed his eyes. He looked at the seventh picture and took in the details. Stiles‘ eyes were bright with laughter and mirth, and the kids at some of the nearby tables were indeed watching him blow a banana. In the middle of lunch. The tableau struck him as hilarious and he chuckled as he responded.

It is a melancholy truth that even great men have their poor relations.

Stiles’ reply was immediate. _My my, don’t we think highly of ourselves. Also, I just sent you a multitude of sexual pictures...and you responded with a Charles Dickens quote._

Derek didn’t bother to stop his grin. _Your point?_

_If you were trying to discourage me, that’s not how to do it._

_If you were trying to court me, that’s not how to do it._ Which was a blatant lie; he wanted to see what else Stiles had up his sleeve, or rather, down his pants.

_Calm down, Queen Victoria. I’ll stick to your 19th century sensibilities from now own, if that’s what you want._

Derek responded with a dick shot that would have made Anthony Weiner gun shy. 

_JFC DEREK HOLY SHIT_

In for a penny, in for a pound, Derek figured. _You should come over after practice._

_I should COME right now, you mean._

Derek rolled his eyes at the pun. _Don’t even think of skipping your last class._

 _Have you met me? OMW._

He toggled to Isaac’s text. _Avoid loft for a few hours after school._

_FUCK YOU--CRASHING W/SCOTT 2NITE_

Derek took another photograph while he waited for Stiles to arrive. 

For reasons.

**46**

**Pairings:** Mr. Lahey/Jackson  
 **Warning: **underage, dubcon, abuse****  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-30763.html

He looks too much like his mother. It's what he thinks when he's had a few too many and the sun's a bit too low and the sink stinks of the shit the boy can never clear away. He looks a bit too fucking much like his mother, and she'd been a two bit whore too.

Whiskey drips from the door, but the neighbors' porch light finally goes off, leaving him to his peace for another ten, fifteen minutes maybe. Isaac's quietened down downstairs. Kid needed some discipline, that was all. 

_Yeah he's definitely gonna feel that one when he wakes up. I beat the shit out of him with that broom handle,_ he fumbles on his phone to Greg who'd get it. Guy knows what it's like with a kid who does shit all and expects everything in return. Fucking little sucker wants it all and looks at him with her eyes and her hair and her mouth and opens his mouth and spreads the ugly with his words without giving him shit in return.

He eases back on the chair, pulse in his cock going in time to the thumping from downstairs, but Isaac would be really quiet soon enough, would shut the fuck up and bawl his tears where no one had to look at it. He slides his hand into his trousers and gets it around his cock until the knock comes on the door, pumps a little until he's primed and Isaac's knocked himself out.

Jackson pauses in the doorway, lips tight and eyes hard and hesitant like he’s never sucked cock before. Been a few summers now, when she’d been alive but he could never get her to go down on him. Isaac had been bawling on the side of the porch, and amid the melee of that and her he’d caught Jackson watching, drooling at the sight of his cock, and he told him to _come get it, boy, want a piece of this, boy_ , over her choked sobs.

That night Jackson had jumped the fence and knelt pretty for him in the middle of the yard, nosing at his balls, rubbing his face all over the cock before he gobbled it down. He’d come all over Jackson’s face, sprayed him down and thrown a ten dollar bill at him. He’d been back a few days later, and again, and now he’s standing in the doorway, a full grown man who drops to his knees and crawls for a bit of dick.

“Want a bit of this, cocksucker?” he taunts, and Jackson nuzzles into his crotch, wanting some all right.

This one never bawls, never cries at him to stop. He just opens his mouth and lets him fuck that pretty face and doesn't go whining to anyone about it. He knows he taught Jackson right when he buries his cock to the hilt in Jackson’s throat and watches him get gunk all over his chin and chest.

They ignore the thumps from downstairs when they start up again, ignore the car doors going outside and someone calling Jackson’s name. The kid twitches with his mouth full of cock but stays where he is, knows better than to be as fucking useless as his son.

“Imagine they could see you, hm? Being such a good cocksucker for me.”

Isaac wails, and Jackson sucks, and when he stands with his hair painted with come and a tenner in his pocket, he wonders if someone else would have use for him or if the kid’s got enough of a taste of it now he’s already getting enough come elsewhere. Isaac kicks off a bit downstairs, and they both look at the doorway before Jackson looks down at his feet, brushes the back of his hand over his mouth, then glances back at the soft cock that still has his spit all over it, probably wondering if someone would burst in any moment and find him here.

“Go see your friends already,” he says.

More thumps, but Jackson turns to leave. He’s taught him right, after all.

**47**

**Pairing:** Allison/Stiles/Scott  
 **Warning:** threesome  
 **Link to text chosen:** [Click](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48629.html)

Allison isn’t sure she has an explanation for this, aside from too many Long Island Ice Teas and the fact that normalcy is something she’s long since bid her bittersweet goodbyes to.

But really: why should this be weird, after everything? This seems like a normal teenage thing compared to the fact that her boyfriend is a werewolf, her aunt is a cold-blooded murderer, and that Allison is supposed to kill too.

All of that seems kind of irrelevant, though, as she splays her hands over Stiles’s chest, her eyes fluttering shut when she sinks down on him. Her breath goes shaky for a moment, fingers curling against his skin as he spreads her open, filling her up until she feels like she has too little room inside herself.

Her thighs tremble as she shifts, circling her hips until she has to bite her lip and Stiles groans low in his throat, his hands reaching out to slide over her thighs.

He’s never been in her before. Or well, not his cock, anyway. He’s fingered her while she exchanged lazy kisses with Scott. And she’s blown him, gagging on his cock while Scott fucked her until she barely had the presence of mind to breathe through her nose. But she’s never had a cock that isn’t Scott’s inside her – now moving, fucking into her with sharp, little thrusts that take her breath away.

The thought that it’s Stiles’s cock sliding into her, making her flushed and wet, is... well, it’s exhilarating. It’s too good. She doesn’t know if it’s supposed to feel like this, if it’s supposed to be exciting that there’s someone else. For a moment she panics until Scott’s breath is on her neck and his fingers brush her hair aside.

She relaxes back into his chest, letting his fingers press at her jaw, angling her head until he can lean in to kiss her, his lips familiar and hot. Licking into the kiss greedily, she reaches a hand up to clutch at his hair.

When Scott grips her waist, leaning her back against him and holding her up so Stiles can fuck up into her, she finally gets the courage to open her eyes. Stiles’s lips are parted and his cheeks are flushed, and somehow it’s comforting to know she’s not the only one affected. She’s not _wrong_ for liking it, and she has to admit that for a moment she’d been afraid she was the only one feeling hot all over.

She looks down at Scott’s hands bracketing her waist, and Stiles’s long fingers curling around her thighs. Letting out a helpless moan that she’d been trying to hold back, she watches breathlessly as Stiles’s cock fucks into her, wet with her juices when he pulls out. Throwing her head back against Scott’s shoulder, she shudders – overwhelmed.

When Scott has prepared her, muttering soft words and making her ass slick with lube, her spine feels like liquid and she’s beyond caring whether it’s a good idea or not. She knows Scott has thought about this. She knows they all have, and she wants to be filled so full that she can’t breathe from the feeling of it.

She falls forward, catching herself with her hands pressed to Stiles’s stomach, gasping out shuddering breaths as she feels _impossibly_ stretched. “Oh, god.” She digs her nails into Stiles’s skin, trying to ground herself to something.

Stiles looks up at Scott, his eyes wide. “Dude, I can fucking _feel you_. Jesus.”

And Allison gives a delirious laugh, because the first time they did this Stiles had informed them that everyone should know the rule that if dicks touch during a threeway you just make lightsaber noises and move on.

There are no lightsaber noises now, only Scott moaning into her ear, her own uncontrolled, high-pitched noises and Stiles swearing loudly as they find some sort of rhythm that makes everything feel too hot and too real.

She can’t keep it together, not when their cocks slide in and out of her alternately, never letting her catch her breath and it’s so good it fucking _hurts_. There’s no way to tell up from down anymore, she doesn’t know who makes what sound, she has no idea which cock is which.

That’s the realisation that finally makes her come with a choked sob, her juices sliding down her thigh as she goes boneless between them.

**48**

**Pairings:** Stiles/Derek  
 **Warning:** None, I'm pretty sure  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49007.html

 

“He what?”

“Deputy Hale was asking about you. Wanted to see how you were doing.”

“That’s nice, I guess.” Stiles shrugged at the dinner table across from his father. 

“He’s been asking about you a lot lately, actually. Even since before your accident,” the Sheriff mentioned casually. Stiles raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “I gave him your number.”

Stiles fumbled with his fork and it fell on the floor. “You _what_?”

“He’s shy as hell and you’re oblivious.”

“Dad!” Stiles yelled. “How do--but what. I mean, he’s so--what?”

“You’re welcome,” the Sheriff replied.

*****

“You’re going out with a dude you’ve never talked to before?” Scott asked doubtfully, over the phone.

Stiles held his phone between his ear and shoulder as he tried to decide what to wear.

“We’ve talked! At the station when I drop off dinner for dad and...”

“Exactly,” Scott said flatly.

“Hey! He was at the hospital after my accident! He’s seen me hopped up on some major painkillers and he still wasn’t put off. I think he can handle whatever I throw at him. Plus he’s _incredibly_ hot. Like, tv show-serial killer hot.”

Scott snorted. “Not that I don’t think you’re a catch, dude, but I can see this ending badly. He works for your dad!”

Stiles was quiet as he eyed a shirt and pair of pants together. “Think he’d agree to wear his gun in bed?”

Stiles snickered over Scott’s strangled yell.

*****

Dinner was a polite affair. 

Too polite.

Derek was a rising star in the Beacon Hills detachment, dedicated to his job and stiffer than a starched shirt.

 Stiles was a grad student finishing his thesis who could barely find matching socks and couldn’t do subtle innuendo if his life depended on it.

Hot or not, it wasn’t the best match.

“So this was fun,” Stiles said as they reached Stiles’ Jeep outside the restaurant. “Thanks for a nice evening.”

He stuck his hand out for Derek to shake. Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed like he had a perma-scowl.

“It was nice, yes,” Derek replied, woodenly. Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and turned to get into his vehicle. He heard Derek turn away to leave but a second later Stiles felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah?” With a quiet growl Derek pushed Stiles back against the Jeep and leaned in, giving Stiles enough time to push him away if he wanted, and kissed him.

Stiles made a noise in his throat and wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders to pull him in closer, opening his mouth to Derek right away.

“You drive me crazy,” Derek whispered against Stiles’ mouth.

“How? I didn’t even know you noticed me,” Stiles murmured back, pressing small kisses to the side of Derek’s mouth.

“You’re always around. _Always_ ,” Derek told him fervently. “Always at the station and checking up on your dad. Then when you were in that accident- Jesus, I couldn’t believe how far under my skin you’d gotten.”

“God bless morphine,” Stiles groaned. Derek kissed him again, quickly, then glanced around the dark parking lot they were in.

“C’mere.” Derek opened Stiles’ back door and followed him in. “Let’s see how many laws we can break.”

Stiles looked down where Derek’s suit jacket opened and noticed a holstered pistol snug against his body.

“Yeeeesss,” Stiles hissed, leaning up to kiss Derek wetly.

Ten minutes later Stiles was sprawled across his back seat with Derek crouched over him awkwardly, swallowing Stiles’ cock down like it was his last assignment.

“Jesus Derek,” Stiles moaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Your mouth...”

Derek held Stiles’ hips down, controlled how he moved against Derek’s suction, and Stiles’d never realized being so rigid could be so hot. He strained against Derek’s grip to no avail.

“Yeah, yeah! Gonna come soon,” Stiles gasped. Derek hummed his encouragement and within seconds Stiles was gone, bucking up into Derek’s mouth freely.

Derek had just enough time to wipe his mouth when there was a tap at Stiles’ now-steamy window.

“Shit,” Stiles muttered, as he tried to get himself together and Derek covered his boner.

Stiles rolled down the back window and squinted into the bright light of a flashlight shining at him.

“Son?”

“Dad?”

The Sheriff took one look at his son and deputy and grinned before turning to walk away. “You’re welcome.”

**49**

**Pairings:** Sterek  
 **Warning:** Language  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://m.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49052.html

 

When Stiles had envisioned rooming during college, he'd hoped for a fellow geek, someone he could play Mario with and who understood (or at least tolerated) his love for Mumford and Sons. What Stiles really expected, on the other hand, was a carbon copy of Jackson - a pretty-boy bully dating the hottest girl in the student body. Because so far, in his 18 years of life, that was Stiles' luck in a nut shell.

What Stiles gets, however, is neither. Sure, his roommate's the hottest piece of ass on campus, and sure, he tolerates Mumford well enough, but what Stiles did not expect is that his roommate is the _grumpiest motherfucker of all time_.

Also, fire extinguishers.

"Why is there _another_ stolen fire extinguisher in our room? You know that's a felony, right?" Stiles sighs, too tired to even sound angry anymore; he's just exasperated, and frustrated, and _completely confused_.

Derek - his hot, Mumford-and-Sons-approving, broody-as-fuck roommate, _growls at Stiles_ , and stalks out of their room.

*

Derek's actually a few years older, a post-grad who's somehow ended up in student halls with a bunch of typical drunk and/or high undergrads. Stiles feels sorry for him at first, up until their sixth day sharing air, when Derek glowers at Stiles for two hours from his side of the room, and the fire extinguishers start appearing out of nowhere.

"He sounds bat-shit insane, dude," Scott shrugs over Skype sympathetically. 

"At least he's not bullying you?" Allison tries to offer, but it falls flat on Stiles' ears. 

"Stiles," Lydia interrupts before anyone else has anything equally useless to offer, "for someone who lives his life on the Internet, I'm surprised you haven't seen this already." Her tone is all condescension and smugness, but Stiles is immune to her and her strawberry-blonde hair now, after years of exposure. Instead of snarking back, he clicks on the link she's sent.

Stiles stares at the online news article, let's out a long exhale of air, and whispers, "Fuck."

*

"So."

Stiles isn't surprised when Derek doesn't even grace him with a cursory glance. Derek just continues tapping away at his laptop - very, _very_ slowly - like it's personally offended him.

Stiles clears his throat and starts again. "You can steal-- well, _bring_ however many fire extinguishers you like. Here. Whenever. And if you run out of room, I've got, er, space." He waves under his bed. "Under my bed."

Derek looks up, at last, and meets Stiles' nervous stare. 

"Thanks," Derek eventually says quietly. He then goes back to typing his essay. No apologies. No explanations about pasts or weird klepto tendencies. 

Stiles returns to his own work, turning up Mumford's 'I Will Wait', and tries not to worry about all those buildings that are missing fire extinguishers. 

*

Stiles had intially thought the truce he'd instigated over the fire extinguishers would be enough to get Derek on his side, but it takes almost another month for him to understand why Derek glares at him all the time. 

Derek comes back drunk for the first time on a Thursday night. Later, Stiles will find out that this particular Thursday is The Anniversary, but not before Derek pins him violently to the wall and begins to nearly _chew Stiles' face off._

 _Oh,_ Stiles thinks as he bites back with as much force as he dares, _so that's why_.

*

Stiles whines high in his throat, shoving his arse back onto Derek's fingers. "Derek, _Derek_ , oh fuck, fuck!"

"That's it," Derek coerces with another thrust of his hand, splitting Stiles wider, " _take it_."

Stiles wants to muffle his moans by biting his arm, but they're pinned behind him by Derek, who latches onto Stiles' neck and begins to half suck, half bite what feels like the largest hickey onto his skin.

" _Derek_ ," Stiles cries out, a final warning before he tumbles into orgasm, come slicking the way of Derek's fist around Stiles' cock. Derek's fingers fuck him through it, the sound dirty in Stiles' ringing ears, and he whimpers as the pleasure eventually gives way to the wet discomfort of both his cock and arse.

Growling, Derek mounts Stiles, practised and fluid as he sinks into him. As Derek begins to fuck Stiles, each thrust deep and hard, Stiles spots the collection of stolen fire extinguishers shoved under his bed, and smiles to himself as Derek comes inside of him with a stuttered cry of Stiles' name.

**50**

**Pairings:** Stiles/Erica  
 **Link to text chosen:** (306): Sad fact: I'm doing that thing where I'm bored so I give myself Princess Leia hair and drink alcohol. <http://tfl.nu/3yus>

When Erica comes back, it’s not exactly to open arms. It’s been a year of endless territory battles for Derek’s dwindling pack. Stiles figures forgiveness doesn’t come so easily when the wounds are still healing from the latest attack.

Erica’s lip quivers and says she’ll help if they’ll take her back.

No one answers.

Erica walks away, probably off to go tell her parents some lies.

\---

Stiles sees her at school and shoots her a quiet smile. She eats up the attention greedily. He moves seats to be beside her and the way her face lights up makes his heart ache.

\---

It’s not like no one is talking about it; there’s plenty of screaming to be overheard if you’re standing behind the right door.

“You told me to run and I ran.” Erica’s voice is wrecked from the shouting and the sobs. “You aren’t allowed to hate me for that.”

“I don’t hate you,” Boyd says. It’s hard to believe him, though, when the words sting with bitterness.

After Boyd walks away, Stiles is there to pick up the pieces and drive her home.

\---

They strike up this weird sort of friendship after that, both on the fringe of what is really happening. Isaac comes to school with bruises that aren’t healing and Scott shrugs and tells Stiles he’ll explain later.

Stiles is left out to keep him safe; Erica is kept out because no one trusts her. They bond over greasy food and bitch about it until it hurts less.

 

\---

_Sad fact: I'm doing that thing where I'm bored so I give myself Princess Leia hair and drink alcohol._

Stiles smiles at the text and replies,

_pics?_

_Going to start a marathon. Come over and see?_

The question mark takes him a bit by surprise. Post-bite Erica would have made it a command. He’s not sure what to do with this new version, but with Star Wars and alcohol on offer, he’s already putting on his shoes.

If his mind flashes to Erica in a metal bikini, well, he’s only human.

\---

They’re on Erica’s bed, movie’s playing, but neither of them are paying attention any longer. Her parents are out for the night and the vodka she stole from their liquor cabinet was significantly depleted in the first thirty minutes of his arrival.

Sometime around, “Luke, I am your father,” Erica kisses him.

Their clothes start hitting the floor not long after.

Her breast feel incredible in his palm, soft and heavy. Goosebumps prickle up on her cleavage as he fumbles with the clasp of her lacy bra. Stiles gapes at the first set of naked tits he’s seen in real life; Erica turns away, a blush creeping up her neck and staining her chest.

“This okay?” Stiles shivers, trying to calm himself enough to actually do the right thing here. Stiles knows Erica had a crush on him once and knows she’s vulnerable at the moment. He hopes this isn’t taking advantage because he’s not an asshole like that. The ache of the dick is warring with his need to not fuck up this fragile new friendship they’re starting.

Erica smiles and kisses him. When she pulls back, she whispers into his ear, “I just don’t want to be a virgin anymore.”

“Oh, God,” Stiles blurts out, half-laughing. “Me neither. Shit. Tell me you have condoms. I never thought --”

Erica snorts, like Stiles’ incompetence was everything she needed to get her confidence back, and she reaches for her night stand.

They strip themselves quickly, sneaking peeks, kissing and giggling through their nerves. It’s undeniably awesome though, and Stiles is grateful it’s Erica he’s with -- she makes him feel like he’s pretty fantastic -- and not Lydia, who would be scaring him soft right now.

He gets the condom on and it’s nothing like when he’d practiced; Erica’s watching, curious and unashamed now that it’s _his_ body on display.

“Nice cock, Batman.”

He laughs, head thrown back and carefree. He hadn’t thought he’d laugh this much. He’d thought sex would be all sweat and swearing, scratching nails and jiggling tits. Instead, it’s gentle rolls of their hips and whispered encouragements; Erica’s breath in his ear and the smell of her hair as he tries to go slow.

He doesn’t last long; he’ll do better next time. She holds him until they both stop trembling.

“I’m glad it was you.”

He kisses her wet cheeks. “Me, too.”

**51**

**Pairings:** Stiles/Derek  
 **Warning:** None  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-18067.html

 

“Yo Danny, I got to go. Call you back later.” Stiles hung up the phone and tossed it carelessly on the nightstand. Derek pressed him into the wall of his bedroom, bowing his head to nose at Stiles neck. His grip on his arm was possessive and Stiles mouth was dry as his body heated up. He didn’t even try to suppress his desire, knowing by the breath against his neck that Derek could smell it.

Derek dropped to his knees in front of him looking up at Stiles expectantly and with shaky hands Stiles undid the button on his pants, and pulled down the zipper, pushing his jeans off his hips. His cock was already half hard, had been since Derek had shoved him against the wall of his room. 

Derek’s hands were gentle as he reached for him, tracing the moisture at the tip and Stiles bit his lips. The grip around his cock tightened and Stiles hardened fully. Derek pumped a few times before he leaned forward, breathing against his dick. 

Stiles clenched his hands into fists at his side, choking out “Not that I’m complaining but you do realize you do this anytime I talk to Danny.” Derek’s lips wrapped around him and for a moment Stiles stopped breathing. He closed his eyes because of the sight of Derek swallowing his cock was more than he could handle at the moment.

A tongue traced the vein on the underside of dick and Stiles almost had a holy experience. 

Derek pulled back, taking Stiles ability to think with him and Stiles could swear Derek kissed his dick before he used he pumped his hand on Stiles now very wet dick, before slowly swallowing it back up. Stiles felt Derek’s other hand curl around his hip, the nails that were pressing into his skin helping ground him and he opened his eyes.

Derek was looking up at him, eyes soft. Stiles felt his body shudder, eyes moving from Derek’s to where his lips were stretched around him.

“God I love you.” Stiles let out and Derek smirked as he pulled back and flicked his tongue across his slit. He then swallowed Stiles down, setting a brutal pace as he bobbed on his dick. Stiles focused on the heat surrounding him and the bite of the nails in his skin. When Derek’s grip tightened Stiles went over the edge he had been balancing on, body shaking apart as Derek held onto him. He didn’t pull back, swallowing down Stiles like he was sucking him dry. 

Stiles didn’t even know when his eyes had closed, only knowing that his legs had given out and Derek had caught him. He let Derek manhandle him onto the bed, helping Derek push the rest of his clothes off as he felt Derek’s warm skin against his own.

Finally, settled against his chest Stiles opened his eyes smiling lazily.

His phone buzzed and Derek picked it up, mouth curving as he showed Stiles the text from Danny.

 _What’s he like?_

Danny wasn’t an idiot and Stiles hadn’t exactly hidden the fact that he was seeing someone from him. Before Derek had commandeered his attention Stiles had been telling Danny that he couldn’t come over for a study session because of date night. Stiles snatched it out of his hand, typing out a quick answer as Derek watched over his shoulder.

_The usual. Sarcastic, dark, full of fucked up emotional problems that result in fantastic sexual prowess._

Derek snorted and Stiles elbowed him lightly. He could feel where Derek was hard against his belly. Teasingly he told him “You do know if you keep this up you’re going to give my dick a pavilion reaction to Danny.”

Derek rolled Stiles over on top of him, smiling widely “I’m sure me and my fantastic sexual prowess can handle it.” 

 

**52**

**Pairings:** Peter/Isaac  
 **Warning:** allusions to past child abuse  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://tfl.nu/r4l9

Curled up in the fetal position, as he always is in the dream, Isaac wakes with a start. Peter's been listening to Isaac's heart rate rise over the course of the last twenty minutes, so he knew this was coming. He's sure it's the same dream Isaac has had a hundred times before. They don't talk about it much anymore. It makes Isaac sad and Peter rage.

"Shhh, it's okay, he's not here," Peter whispers. "You're safe."

Isaac trembles beside him. He reeks of fear and sweat. Peter wraps an arm around Isaac's waist, pulls him back against his chest. He always struggles to keep the rage inside at times like these, to not let the anger bleed through far enough that Isaac can feel it.

"He can't hurt you anymore."

Isaac rubs a hand over his face, wipes away the tears that always come with the dream.

"Once, I recorded the toilet flushing and made it his ringtone to remind myself what a piece of shit he was," he whispers.

This is new. Peter takes a deep breath. "Very creative."

Mr. Lahey is lucky he's dead. Death is peaceful. Peter knows. Lahey didn't deserve death. Jackson's a little shit, so Peter won't ever thank him out loud, but he owes Jackson a debt. Maybe not of gratitude, but he'll think of something eventually.

"He _was_ a piece of shit and you didn't deserve anything he did to you."

Isaac sniffles. "I was never good enough for him. Maybe if I'd been better..."

They've had this conversation as many times as Issac's had the dreams. Deep down, Isaac knows it's not a reflection on him—he must—but in the dead of night sometimes their demons get the better of them.

"I'm better now, right?"

Peter rolls him over to face him, pulling Isaac in close and resting a hand on his neck. Isaac's pulse races under his palm.

"My sweet boy," he says, "you're perfect."

Peter feels the tension break. Isaac climbs on top of him, straddling his lap. "Let me be good for you. Please. Let me show you how good I am."

He's not taking advantage, he swears. One might think it started that way at least, but they'd be wrong. People thrive on positive reinforcement.

He can't help but smirk at the thought.

Isaac tears through Peter's briefs with sharp claws and buries his nose in Peter's crotch, inhaling. Even hours later, Peter knows it still smells like them.

He takes Peter's cock in hand and licks, swirling his tongue with a flourish at the top. When Isaac goes back down, he holds Peter's cock out of the way and draws Peter's balls into his mouth, sucking hard.

Isaac looks up at him, his expression a silent plea for approval.

Peter runs clawed fingers through Isaac's hair, guiding him, encouraging him. Never let it be said that Peter doesn't reward good behavior.

"Good boy," he says. 

Isaac whimpers and his eyes fall shut. Peter can feel the drool pooling around his balls.

After a while, he moves to Peter's cock, taking it down slowly. Peter props his head up on one arm, leaving the other comfortably tangled in Isaac's hair.

The view before him is sinful: Isaac's gorgeous blue eyes looking up at him through long lashes, his plump, pink lips wrapped around Peter's cock, glistening with saliva as they work up and down.

With every pass, Isaac takes him in deeper until Peter can feel the press of Isaac's throat around the head of his cock. The hot, wet, frictionless suction is enough to make his stomach clench and his balls tingle. The boy is always so eager to please. Peter's not complaining.

Isaac takes a deep breath through his nose and even though Peter _knows_ what's coming, it still wrenches a groan out of him when Isaac swallows— _repeatedly_ —around the head of his dick.

When Isaac combines those swallowing sucks with a hand around Peter's balls, it's finally too much. His toes curl and his hips jerk off the bed as he comes with a growl into Isaac's perfect mouth.

Isaac swallows it down greedily, nursing on Peter's cock until it's over-sensitive and well spent. Peter pulls him back up the bed and reaches for Isaac's cock.

"Such a good boy. Let me help you."

Isaac curls up half on Peter's chest and shakes his head, fully relaxed and half asleep already. "Later. Just needed you."

**53**

**Pairings:** Scott/Allison/Isaac  
 **Warning:** none  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-16896.html

_My mom just asked me if I was gay in front of my gf._

_What’d Allison say to that?_

 

Allison plucks the phone from Scott’s fingertips. “No texting now. We’re busy. And _you_ are wearing too many clothes.” She drops it, the fall cushioned by a pile of clothes that have already been discarded.

Scott wastes no time getting naked, two pairs of hands helping him yank his shirt over his head and push his jeans and boxers down. Allison and Isaac shove him onto the bed. She perches over his face, her hands gripping the headboard as she lowers herself to where his tongue can dart out and taste her.

His hips jerk up, dick thrusting into the warmth of Isaac’s mouth. Scott groans, one hand on Allison’s hip, his tongue gliding against her slick slit. His other hand slides down, finds curly hair and twists it, holding Isaac in place as he tilts his hips again.

He tries to be gentle, to wait for Isaac to be ready for his thrust, but he can’t resist. He hears the faint sound of choking, then that _feeling_ as Isaac relaxes his throat and Scott slides into the tight channel. It’s almost too much; Isaac circles his dick with his fingers, squeezing tightly and holding off Scott’s orgasm.

Something buzzes—Scott’s phone is muffled by the pile of clothes. 

“Stiles—”

Isaac smacks his thigh. “Do _not_ say his name again while I’m sucking you or I will make sure you don’t get off until you’re home with your hand.”

Oh _hell_ no. Scott pushes himself up, sliding Allison down his body until her hips match with his. She is sandwiched between him and Isaac, all of them reaching for each other, not caring who kisses who and what skin is caressed. 

Allison shifts her hips, letting Scott slip inside of her. She grinds down on him and he arches up, pressing into her warmth. “Fuck.”

“Is that what you want?” Isaac smirks at him, hands pinching Allison’s nipples, then sliding down over her hips to Scott’s thighs. He pushes his legs wide, tugging and rearranging to expose him. “Take it slow, Allison. I don’t want him to finish until I’m inside him.”

The phone buzzes again, the sound somehow angry.

“Shut up, Stiles.” Allison’s words are breathy. Scott laughs, silencing her with a kiss. He doesn’t care about Stiles anymore, not when he’s thrusting slowly into Allison and Isaac is pressing a slick finger into his ass.

He loves this feeling of being between them, of having them both. Knowing that nothing really matters; they fit together in so many different combinations. Three is so much more than two plus one… more than he ever could have expected.

Two fingers slide into Scott’s ass and he moans in response, the sound swallowed by Allison’s mouth. “Do it,” Scott manages to say. “Just do it.” He’s a werewolf; if it hurts, he’ll heal. He _wants_ it, wants the three of them to be as close as they can be.

It’s always just a little awkward, finding the right angles as Isaac presses into Scott, holding onto both of them. But once it’s done—once they all start to move—they find their rhythm like they were born to it. Like they were meant to be together just like _this_.

Allison slides down as Scott presses up. Isaac thrusts into him, pushing him further into Allison. Scott lets himself fall into the ebb and flow, thrust and retreat, slip and slide and oh _fuck_ he is so close. He reaches out, gripping skin with his fingers, pressing tightly as he loses control.

Allison gasps, shudders around him and moans Isaac’s name; Isaac stiffens and spills inside of Scott.

They come back to reality slowly, piled in a tangle of limbs atop the sheets.

The phone buzzes again and Allison leans over Scott and Isaac to get it. “I’ll text him back,” she offers, and Scott lets her. Her, him, Isaac… he’s not sure it matters who’s who right about now. He snuggles between them both and closes his eyes as she taps out an answer on his phone.

 

_Dude! You haven’t answered yet!_

 

_DUDE!!!! Did Allison find out about that thing with you and Isaac? Did you break up? DUDE???_

_Everything’s okay with me and Scott. I told her he’s bi and we had to go because Isaac was waiting naked for us._

_Allison?_

_I wasn’t lying. G’night, Stiles._

**54**

**Pairings:** Danny/Stiles  
 **Warning:** None  
 **Link to text chosen:**[(613): The fact that you think I have a life is so flattering to me.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49110.html) and [(317): Yeah, but he has adorable dimples and dimples talk me into things.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49090.html)

****

Danny (18:03:44): i know it’s late notice, but are you busy tonight?

Stiles (18:04:56): the fact that you think i have a life is so flattering to me

Danny (18:06:04): my parents are out, you should come over :)

****

Stiles (18:08:32): sorry dude gotta bail on tonight

Scott (18:10:03): are you ditching me for danny you promised you wouldn’t do this again!!!

Stiles (18:11:01): yeah, but he has adorable dimples and dimples talk me into things

****

Danny (20:32:32): are you coming?

Stiles (20:35:40): something urgent came up, i’ll be there in like half an hour? sorry :(

Danny (20:40:45): ok

****

Stiles (20:43:42): i hate you so much

Stiles (20:44:14): i could be having sex right now

Stiles (20:44:55): with a really hot person who wants to have sex with me

Derek (20:49:45): I think you have the wrong number.

Stiles (20:51:01): no i don’t

****

Stiles (21:19:12): danny’s an understanding, forgiving sort of a guy, right?

Jackson (21:21:03): stop texting me stilinski

Stiles (21:22:15): it was just a simple question!

Jackson (21:23:45): i’m not helping you get in danny’s pants

Stiles (21:24:12): too late ;)

Jackson (21:25:00): STOP TEXTING ME STILINSKI

****

Scott (22:58:16): sorry about tonight man

Stiles (22:59:23): not your fault bro

Scott (23:00:52): still. gonna talk to danny?

Stiles (23:03:12): yeah. think he’s getting sick of this though

****

Stiles (23:09:10): i’m sorry :(

Danny (23:20:36): it’s okay

Danny (23:21:12): what happened?

Stiles (23:30:41): family stuff, nothing too serious but i couldn’t really get out of it

Danny (23:43:53): you ever gonna tell me the truth?

Stiles (23:44:15): what do you mean?

Stiles (23:50:27): danny?

Stiles (00:06:19): pick up the phone

Stiles (00:06:25) please

****

“So are we okay?”

“Yeah, we’re okay, Stiles.”

“Because it’s cool if we’re not, I mean, nothing about this situation is really _okay_ , what with all the death and destruction and supernatural creatures roaming around trying to - ”

“We’re okay, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I knew some weird shit was going on, I just didn’t have all the pieces. Don’t know why none of you assholes thought to tell me earlier, though.”

“See, we’re totally not okay.”

“Stiles. I’m not mad at you. Much. I’m madder at Jackson.”

“Awesome, I love it when people are mad at Jackson.”

“Shut up.”

“Also, if it helps, I was thinking about you most of the night.”

“Uh huh.”

“No, really! Between all the running for your life and coming up with awesome plans, there’s a lot of sitting around and waiting. And I spent most of the waiting around time thinking about you.”

“Thinking what about me?”

“Uh. Not really the kind of stuff you say out loud.”

“Stiles.”

“Um. Well, mostly about that freaky awesome thing you do with your tongue, actually.”

“You like that?”

“Oh my god, you did not just say that, are we gonna have phone sex, is that what this is?”

“Hey if you don’t want to, I can go, I have stuff to - ”

“No! No, I wasn’t saying that, I was just. Never mind. Yeah. The tongue thing.”

“You’re the worst at this.”

“It’s my first time.”

“Just - keep going.”

“Are you, um. Hard?”

“You haven’t said anything sexy yet.”

“Hey! Okay, fair enough. Uh. Well. I was also thinking about the way you like it when I’m on top of you, in your lap. It’s awesome when we make out like that, y’know?”

“And you won’t fucking stay still. It only ever takes a couple of minutes before you’re rubbing your ass against my dick.”

“But you’re hard and you’re _right there_ , what else am I supposed to do? And then you put one of those fucking amazing hands on my dick.”

“Fuck, Stiles.”

“I like it when you’re a little rough, too, when you flip us over and start jerking me off, and rubbing off on me...”

“And you always make so much noise, Jesus, Stiles, half the time I have to kiss you just to shut you up, you’re so fucking loud when you come...”

“Oh my god, why the hell aren’t you here we could - ”

“I’m nearly gonna, c’mon Stiles, just - ”

“Shit, okay, after I’ve come, I slick up my hand with my come and start jerking yourself off, and I can’t stop touching you, I don’t wanna stop, except for how I wanna get my mouth on you - ”

“ _Stiles_ \- ”

“Fuck.”

“Mpf.”

“That was awesome.”

“Would’ve been better if you were here.”

“Shit, I know, I’m so - ”

“We’re okay, Stiles.”

“Okay.”

**55**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles, implied Halecest, [Laura/Derek though not explicitly stated]  
 **Warning:** aforementioned Halecest  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-355.html

His name is Stiles and he fucks like a sixteen year old on Adderall. They’ve been fuck buddies for three weeks and Derek knows they’ve spent more time fucking then talking. Which is pretty impressive given how much Stiles can talk. 

Derek met him at Splash one night. Stiles was drunk, pretty and loose-limbed grace poured into tight jeans. Derek texted Laura that he wasn’t coming home and not to wait up. He ducked out of Stiles apartment early the next morning, feeling satisfied like a fat, lazy cat after eating a canary. It had been hands down the best fuck of his life. 

Derek kicked himself a day later for not getting Stiles’ number. 

So he went back to Splash the next week and when he saw Stiles dancing with some puppy faced guy with a grin, Derek just walked up, pushed his way into Stiles’ space and kissed the ever living _fuck_ out of him before grabbing his hand and dragging him out, this time to Derek’s apartment. 

He made sure to get Stiles’ number that time. 

God, he loves to fuck Stiles. Stiles _moans_. Stiles _groans_. Stiles fucking _keens_ when Derek pushes into him, unrelenting, without stopping. Stiles begs Derek to go deeper, to go harder. Stiles _loves_ it. Curses and swears, his limbs jerking and flailing as Derek pushes him down harder into the mattress and fucks him. 

“Oh fuck, yes, oh Christ, deeper, please, please,” Stiles pants and Derek presses into Stiles’ heat and Stiles arches his back so prettily, his cheeks becoming two firm globes from the angle he’s forced into. Derek squeezes the globes of Stiles’ ass and Stiles writhes underneath him. 

“I love your ass,” Derek breathes, bending over Stiles to bite at the meat of his shoulder, the tendon and muscle that turn into his neck. Stiles cants his head back further giving Derek more access. 

“Oh god, bite me, bite me hard,” Stiles pleads. 

Derek does, biting down into the flesh of Stiles’ shoulder, worrying the skin between his teeth, all the while thrusting deep and hard into Stiles’ ass. Stiles whines and comes with a shout, body spasming underneath Derek. Derek drops his weight on top of Stiles, forcing himself deeper, knowing it must hurt so _good_ while Stiles is still over-sensitive from coming. He keeps fucking Stiles like a metronome - even pace, steady beat, punishing thrusts. Stiles gets hard again in minutes. 

God bless 21 year olds. 

“Oh god, Derek, _Derek_.” His voice is thin and breathy, on the edge. 

Derek thrusts in deep. “Yeah, yeah, fuck yeah,” Derek curses, pistoning into Stiles. Stiles comes again with a yelp this time and Derek fucks into him a couple times more and then presses in hard and deep, pulling Stiles’ hips in closer, bruising the skin. 

After Derek cleans them up, and Stiles has passed out, Derek spies his phone on the floor, light flashing with a text. 

From Laura: niiiiiiiiice. I like him. He’s loud. When’s my turn?

From Derek: So is it bad that I'm using this 21 year old for his hot bod and utter naivety?

From Laura: No its what 21 year olds are made for


	4. Group D (with warnings)

**56**

**Pairings:** Implied Jackson/Lydia  
 **Warning:** N/A  
 **Link to text chosen:** [(330): i've created a new STD.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49167.html)

[](http://imgur.com/pVCwOpl)

**57**

**Pairings:** Isaac/Erica/Jackson  
 **Warning:** None  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49138.html

[](http://imgur.com/uiGgIOO)

I'm so glad we both made out with him though. I feel like that really brought us together.

**58**

**Pairings:** Erica/Lydia  
 **Warning:** Underage (canon-age)  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48643.html

[](http://imgur.com/v8vT7av)

**59**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-47550.html

Stiles has gotten a bit of a reputation for pranking the other people in his dorm. Then they hear his boyfriend's coming for a visit..

From Stiles:  
To the person who put the glitter on my ceiling fan...fuck you

[](http://imgur.com/LnafYMZ) **58**

**60**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** None  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49014.html

**Right In The Childhood**

[](http://imgur.com/rLYDYKI)

**61**

**Pairings:** Derek/Stiles  
 **Warning:** Explicit genitals??  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48995.html

[](http://imgur.com/g04IvCV)

**62**

**Pairings** : Derek/Stiles  
 **Warnings** : Drug Use  
 **Link to text chosen** : http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49079.html

[](http://imgur.com/eSkj34m)


	5. Group A (no warnings)

**1**

**Link to text chosen:** http://tfl.nu/j8o0

He doesn't know it's Allison's dad, okay?

Well, _not for sure_ because it's dark—but that's a pretty shit excuse, even for him.

But he's so fucking hot that it's hard to think about anything else. It's a club three towns over, so it's not like Danny is thinking _holy shit, that's Allison's dad_ but he'd be lying if he said he didn't have some vague inclination. Then again, Danny's sure there were a lot of thoughts in his mind before Mr. Argent ground his crotch into Danny's ass and he realized what he was dealing with here.

"Oh god," he moans, because he's a realist and Mr. Argent smiles against his neck like he knows the score.

By the time they're in the bathroom, Danny can't really make morally important decisions. All he's thinking about is how the man who is about get with him has a ten inch dick and Danny is the luckiest bastard in the entire state of California right now.

"Gonna put you on your knees and fuck that pretty, young mouth," Argent is saying, cupping a brutal hand to his clothed dick but Danny moans a protest.

"No, god—that, no," he says and Argent pauses. Danny scrambles to push back, feeling the hot grind of Argent's dick and yeah—he's basically made up his mind.

When he spins around, he makes sure to look Allison Argent's dad right in the eyes when he says, "I want it to _hurt_ ," and grins.

The smile he gets in return is almost enough to make him come in his pants.

It's an ugly scramble to get half undressed and Argent—fuck, Danny doesn't even know his _name_ —keeps putting his teeth around Danny's tits and bitting. But eventually Danny's face is pressed against the stall of the bathroom, his dignity somewhere around his ankles while Argent works three fingers into his ass.

There is not enough lube in the world to make him ready for that dick but they try.

"Oh fuck," Danny whines, panicky when the head forces itself into his ass. He's really thick, long and jesusfuck, he's totally gonna cry on this dude's dick and it's gonna be the best thing that's happened to him since his fake ID.

"Look at you take it," Argent says and Danny does, just lets him force his cock inside until he's being split open in the best way. Argent gnaws on his neck when he's fully seated and Danny sobs. It's really big and it fucking hurts but he can't stop—he doesn't want anything more than to be fucked absolutely unconscious.

Which is exactly what Argent does. With goddamn enthusiasm.

"You're such a slut for it," Argent says. "God, look at your tight hole."

Danny does start crying when he feels fingers trace the stretched rim of his ass, but Argent seems totally into the choked off sobs because he just keeps giving it to Danny.

"There you go babe, you're doing so well," he murmurs but Danny can barely hear it. His entire world is focused on the pleasure shooting painful spikes everywhere. There isn't even a hand on his dick because yeah, if you're gonna fuck someone this hard, you'd need both hands but god—what an absolute bastard.

Danny comes regardless, tears streaming down his face as he gasps, grinding back on an assful of cock.

But Argent doesn't stop. He fucks him until Danny is whimpering, the only thing holding him up is the blunt imprint of Argent's teeth and his dick. It's amazing. It's morally horrid but Danny doesn't care because Argent growls, his thrusts speed up and Danny swears he comes again dry it feels so good to be hammered that well.

When Argent finally comes, it's with a soft, "There you go babe," like he's doing Danny a favor.

Afterward, Argent kisses him a few times but Danny isn't really with it. He notices Argent's smug smile and when he wipes Danny down, what a gentleman, he pulls a little at the fucked out rim like it's a goodbye kiss.

Two weeks later Jackson sends him this text:
    I really think Allison's dad just walks around with tennis balls in his pocket. No dick is that big

Sure, there's shame and humiliation and that holyfuck moment when he remembers just how awesome it was to get fucked by their friend's totally still married dad but mostly he just laughs and cracks up at his life.

Like, what could be more cliché?

**2**

**Link to text chosen:** http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49165.html

"Are you hard?" Stiles blurted out after ten seconds of inner battle to keep silent.

"Surprisingly, Star Trek doesn't get me going, " Derek answered, rolling his eyes and turning back to the TV.

They were on Stiles' bed watching the only thing decent at four am. She stopped paying attention when the first red shirt died a tragically inevitable death. Far more interesting was the tidy bulge in Derek's sweatpants right between his legs. They were pressed tight together, she could hear his heartbeat and smell her shampoo on him.

It might actually have been the first time since the Alpha pack they'd had a quiet moment together. Stiles hated to miss an opportunity to assuage her curiosity.

"So, this is just you?" Stiles asked, slipping down Derek's chest and tracing a finger along the jut of his hip bone. "Au natural, if you will?"

"Is this going somewhere?" Derek shifted, and put his big hand on the back of her neck.

"I wanted, I thought maybe - can I?" Stiles let the words tumble out of her mouth. He'd popped her cherry pretty spectacularly, but she hadn't had the chance to really savor the moment. It wasn't like she'd rolled around with a lot of naked men before.

He studied her with the same expression he used for particularly puzzling pieces of raw bunny. She was ready to call it off when he parted his legs and started watching the episode again. "Go on if you want, but it's not like it's the first time you've seen it," Derek said.

"The first time we're not covered in blood or avoiding family and betas," Stiles muttered, hiding in his chest. She took a deep breath and dropped her hand to cup his crotch.

She didn't use any pressure, but could feel the heat of him plainly on her palm. Her hand wasn't big enough to hold his balls too, so she twisted her fingers around them and rubbed back up the inside of his thighs. His muscles were always hard, this time there was some other kind of tension that kept him wound tight. His stomach jumped when she slid his sweatpants down.

"What brought this up?" Derek asked, lifting his hips to help her.

"You know, Star Trek doesn't adequately answer all the questions that I have about alien genitalia," Stiles teased, her lips brushed the wiry hair trailing from his bellybutton. She smiled at his shiver. Even without being hard, he was thick, and her own belly tingled at the memory of him.

"Werewolf not alien," he said, grumbling.

"Says the man who grows a giant knot at the base of his dick," she said as she gently scratched her bitten off nub of a fingernail between his balls and around where his knot would form if he hadn't already spent a satisfying half hour tied inside her.

Derek tugged her hair until she looked, and then bared his teeth. "Werewolf," he repeated, "not man."

"Don't be such a dramawolf," Stiles scolded, while inside doing a fist pump for coining a new nickname Derek would hate yet tolerate. "Either way you're mine, and I wanna see the goods."

He was harder when she looked back at his lap. She thought about teasing him for getting turned on by arguing, but she could feel his chest moving heavier. She did that. She was the reason his dick filled and leaned in toward her. A piece of him he couldn't always control that wanted her out of everyone.

"I love your dick," Stiles said, knowing the blush would stain down her chest. "I love when we're together and someone moves just right so I can feel it without being a big deal. It's like somehow you trust me that much."

"I trust you with everything," Derek said.

He tangled his fingers with hers and showed her how he liked it. The tight squeeze on the upstroke and the tease of nails on the way down. He let her look and taste, watch as he leaked and leave feather light kisses on his skin. Stiles took him in her mouth and watched him bite his lip bloody as he came down her throat.

Her gag reflex, however, kind of broke the mood.

Derek fought a grin as she slunk from the bathroom. He held his arms open and waited until she settled against him before he said, "And they say romance is dead."

**3**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48618.html

“You should arch your back more,” Stiles says. He rubs his cheek absently against the backrest of the driver’s seat and squints at where Scott is crouched in the dark back of the Jeep.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scott says on an exhale. It’s the first thing Stiles has said in a hour. An _hour_. Scott feels himself tensing up and sucks in air, trying to relax around Isaac’s dick in his ass. He shifts on his hands and knees, spreading his fingers against the floorboards.

Allison’s head appears between the seats.

“Scott.”

“Lie back down; everything’s fine,” Scott says.

“But I…I feel….” She twitches into a full-body shiver. She has her hand down her jeans; Scott can smell it.

“I know. I’ll get to you in a minute.” He jumps a little when he feels teeth graze the top of his spine.

“Stiles is turned on, too.” Allison jabs Stiles in the eye in her attempt to point at him. Stiles barely responds, just lets his head loll sideways, eyelids drooping.

“I know, Allison—”

Just then, his phone lights up between his hands, and Scott breathes a sigh of relief when he reads Derek’s text. _Were you near the dust storm?_

He types out a reply with shaking fingers. _Yes. We all inhaled it. What do we do._

“I have an idea,” Allison proclaims, sitting up straight. “What if. What if Stiles and I did things together.”

Scott opens his mouth to respond, but Isaac chooses that moment to shift his weight, dropping into an accidental grind against Scott’s prostate, and Scott has to drop his head and breathe.

The dust storm had been a blinding, sulfur-colored assault the moment they crossed into the witch’s territory. Stiles had pulled over and they’d quickly rolled up the windows, but it was too late. It was like the full moon, all hot sensation shooting through his legs and hands and balls, and by the time Scott’s head had cleared enough to notice that the storm had subsided, he was bent over in the back of the Jeep, an open tub of Vaseline stuck in the mesh of a lacrosse stick near his hip, and Isaac was fucking into him from the rear doorway.

Stiles’ head drops off the headrest and out of Scott’s sight.

“Stiles?” Scott says loudly. “You okay, buddy? Allison, check on him.”

She prods him. “He’s unconscious.”

“Okay,” Scott says, trying to think. “Okay, maybe you should do something to him. I think the sex helps. It’s helping, right, Isaac?”

“It’s helping,” Isaac says tightly.

“So blow him?” Allison asks.

Scott shakes his head, unsure. His phone flashes again with a new text. Derek’s super helpful advice is: _Go to Deaton’s._

Scott can’t help it; the claw on his thumb goes straight through the screen, and his phone blinks and dies. “God _damn_ it.”

What would Scott have told him? _Actually we stopped the Jeep and went behind it and fucked. With Stiles and Allison there. On the side of the road. As cars drove by._

Scott stills and pulls himself together. The fact is, Stiles’ breath is stuttering, and Allison is shaking almost constantly. They need help, and soon, or who knows what could happen to them?

The thought makes him sets his jaw. He starts fucking back onto Isaac’s dick.

“Scott?”

“Yeah, yeah, blow him.”

Scott doesn’t see Allison’s mouth close around Stiles’ dick, but he knows it happens when Stiles’ eyes pop open on a gasp.

“It’s okay,” Scott says. He goes up on his knees as much as he can, leaning back into Isaac. “You’re okay, Stiles. Allison’s taking care of you.”

Stiles blinks, taking this in. Scott can see Allison’s shoulders bob in the gap between the seats. There’s a long moment filled with nothing but wet, fleshy sounds.

“You’re leaking,” Stiles remarks some time later, and to Scott’s embarrassment, Allison pulls back to see for herself. A line of sweat trickles from Scott’s bellybutton, and a sticky ribbon of precome waves like a banner as his dick and balls bounce in time to Isaac’s thrusts, all of it exposed to their view.

“I’m sorry,” Scott says, “It’s—”

“So hot,” Allison says in a tiny voice. She and Stiles both stare at him, helpless, while Isaac whines and bucks against his back.

Some protective instinct wells up in Scott’s throat.

“You’re all going to be okay,” Scott promises, right before he comes in pearly streaks across the lacrosse equipment.

 

**4**

**Link to text chosen** : http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-1842.html

“The redhead has a boyfriend.” Danny mentions offhandedly.

“Just because there’s a goalie, doesn’t mean you can’t score.” Jackson replies with a trademark smirk.

Danny snickers and already knows who they’ll be taking home tonight. It’s not often Jackson’s charms are refused and he doubts Lydia will be any different. **~*~*~*~**

An unbidden oan falls from Danny’s lips as Lydia relaxes her jaw and takes his cock all the way down her throat, swallowing around him like a pro. With practiced ease she pulls back, swirls her tongue in his slit and around the head before deep throating hi again. His eyes lock on to Jackson’s own. He’s behind Lydia, hands gripping her hips to keep steady as he thrusts into her from behind. He gives Danny a smirk before turning his attention back to Lydia.

“You’re such a little cock slut, aren’t you princess?” Jackson gathers her hair in one hand and pulls. She stills under his touch, lips going slack around Danny’s cock. “Aren’t you?” Jackson asks again and pulls until she releases Danny’s cock from her mouth with an obscene pop. “Say it.”

There’s only the slap-slap of skin in response, Lydia’s breasts swaying underneath her with each powerful thrust. Knowing where this is going, Danny takes his cock in hand and races over Lydia’s swollen lips. She attempts to suck him in again, but he pulls away.

“Not until you say it.” Jackson speaks for him.

Danny smiles and lets his cock slap against the side of her face. Lydia’s eyes light up with fury, but Danny doesn’t miss the way her back arches, how her fingers dig into the sheets or how she sees to push back onto Jackson’s cock just a little bit harder. So he does it again and again, his own need coiling tighter with each slap of his sensitive cock against her cheek.

“Just say it sweetheart.” Danny says as he traces her lips again, letting a drop o precu all into her slightly parted mouth. Her whole body shakes in submission as she whispers, “I’m a cockslut.”

“Louder.” Jackson commands. The power in his voice makes Danny’s own skin crawl. The things he would do because of that voice.

“I’m a cockslut!” Lydia all but shouts.

“Yes you are, and we’re going to take very good care of you.” Danny says evenly. He threads his fingers through her long auburn locks and slowly feeds her his cock. She moans around him and the vibrations travel up and down his spine, ending in the tip of his dick and making him throb with the need for release.

He fucks her mouth slowly, taking the time to enjoy the choked sounds every time he hits the back of her throat, the saliva that drips down his cock and onto his balls.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last Jax.”

“You will.”

He whimpers in protest, but he obeys, biting his lip and digging his fingers into Lydia’s scalp. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jackson reaching to the lube and relief swells through him. Sometimes Jackson makes him wait until he’s sobbing to get on with it.

Danny forces himself to keep his eyes open and watch as Jackson spreads lube over Lydia’s asshole and push in two fingers. Lydia bucks her hips wildly and chokes around Danny in response.

“Shh.” Danny murmurs and runs a hand along the smooth expanse of her back. Jackson’s fingers disappear inside her lithe body, in and out, getting her ready for him. His cock pulses at the idea and Lydia is quick to swallow him down again, lapping at the precome and running a flattened tongue on the underside of the head.

“Please.” Danny moans through gritted teeth.

“So impatient.” Jackson reprimands, but he does pull out of her. “Come on then.”

Jackson pulls her back so Danny can lie down underneath her. Jackson guides her to flip over and straddle Danny’s hips in a reverse cowgirl. Danny holds his breath as she sinks down on him, cock filling up her ass. Once he’s fully seated she leans back and Danny can feel Jackson’s cock sliding so close to his, entering her pussy from on top.

They thrust in unison and just when it’s too much he hears Jackson say “Come for me.”

Lydia falls apart on top of him and he finally lets go, coming for what feels like forever.

****

******5** ** **

**Link to text chosen:** http://tfl.nu/6ru3 

When they arrived, just two weeks into his summer break from college, Stiles wasn’t sure he shouldn’t just return them right away and save himself the embarrassment of someone finding them in his possession.

But curiosity always got the better of him, so he opened the box. Stiles is honest enough to admit, that he spent about ten minutes just staring at the things; the metal and the elegant chain was all shiny, and the little red rhinestones decorating it broke the light in a really fucking pretty way.

So, in the end he kept them. It wasn’t like anyone had a habit of creeping into his room - except for maybe Peter, but since they got to third base and beyond, the guy usually only came when he was home.

Okay, so he was naive.

He assumed, that Peter didn’t sneak into his room anymore, but apparently never catching him didn’t mean that was the case.

So naturally when he got home from dinner at the station with his dad, he nearly had a heart attack when he stepped into his room to find his boyfriend - okay, that sounded stupid in connection to Peter... manfriend? whatever - lounging on the bed, with the damned things dangling from his fingers.

“Want to tell me something, Stiles?”

“What the... How? No, why...?”

“Imagine my surprise when I dropped by, and instead of your delicious self, I found these little bauties just lying around...”

Now _that_ managed to get Stiles talking.

“Lying around? Seriously? They were in a paper bag that was in a little box that was in a shoebox that was in the back of my closet. What the hell are you doing sniffing around my stuff? And to think that I almost started easing up on the dog-jokes!”

Peter stood up and was across the room in a second, moving with the grace of a predator zeroing on tonight’s dinner. He pushed Stiles up against the wall, and rested one end of the chain at the base of the boy’s neck.

Stiles couldn’t help but swallow when he felt the cold of the metal clamp on his skin and Peter smirked in victory.

“Stiles, Stiles, Stiles... Here I am, being all gentle and patient, intent on giving you time to explore sensuality at your own pace...”

The boy had to chuckle breathlessly at that, I mean, seriously; Peter and gentle? He had the finger shaped bruises on his hips to shove how ridiculous that notion was. Not like he was complaining.

He didn’t have the chance to voice any of that though, because Peter was biting at his throat with enough force to make him lose all illusions of coherence. He was deftly peeled out of his shirt and by the time his back hit the bed his jeans were gone too.

Peter - the bastard - was still fully dressed of course; it was some kind of serious power trip for him... and he climbed on top of Stiles quickly.

When the older man loosened his belt buckle, Stiles was pretty sure that things were looking up, except that the next thing he knew, his hands were fastened to the headboard, and Peter was examining the closing mechanism of the nipple clamps.

Oh, god.

***

Scott was just about to get ready for bed when he heard his phone beep with a text from Stiles. He probably wanted to get drunk again, even though he made Scott promise that next time he will keep Stiles away from webshops.

You know.... I ordered the nipple clamps when I was drunk. But on further consideration, THANKS DRUNK ME I LIKE WHATS HAPPENING

******6** ** **

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48995.html

 ******Title:****** Irony: Thy Name is Closet Sex

“You wore these pants on purpose. I know you did.” Stiles lets his hands wander over the stretched tight jeans that cover Danny’s ass and squeezes when Danny sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “You know they give me a boner.”

Danny hums noncommittally around Stiles’ tongue and drags him impossibly closer by his belt loops. Stiles’ hips grind forward of their own volition, pressing their hard, jeans-covered cocks together in a slow drag that has Stiles panting.

“You are evil, Danny Mahealani.”

“You love me that way.”

Stiles shivers and pushes his hands into the back of Danny’s pants, frantically pushing them and his boxer briefs down to expose his cock, unwilling to extend their impromptu make out session any longer. “Fuck, you know I do.” Stiles drops down to his knees and breathes against the long length of Danny’s hard prick. “Let me show you how much.”

Stiles sinks his mouth all the way down over Danny’s cock, hands gripping and kneading his thighs. He loves sucking Danny off. He wasn’t always so good at it, with a terrible gag reflex and too much uncertainty about his skills to really give everything he had. But over the years, Stiles has adjusted to the thick, hard member in his mouth, the way it stretches his lips thin and tight over the sensitive flesh and he revels in the sounds that Danny makes when he dips his tongue into the slit, tasting.

When Stiles hums around his cock, Danny makes a choked off noise in the back of his throat and no. No, no. That won’t do. He knows Danny is trying to be quiet, knows that everyone in the Hale house can _hear_ what is going on if they’re paying close enough attention (and even if they aren’t), but Stiles needs to hear _all_ of Danny’s noises, whimpers, gasps and groans. Danny laughs at him and tells him he doesn’t need anymore encouragement, but really, they just turn Stiles on.

Stiles grips Danny’s thighs harder in a warning and pulls back off his prick. “Let me hear you,” he says, voice gravelly and rough. Sexed, Danny calls it.

Danny’s head bangs back against the door. “They’ll hear.”

Stiles smirks and nods. “I know,” he breathes out. “It turns me on knowing they can hear us in here. It makes me hot them knowing how much you love my mouth on your cock. Let me hear you.” Stiles licks at Danny’s slit and then wraps his lips around the head. He sucks hard, causing Danny to gasp, and then pulls off with a wet pop. Danny whimpers. “Let me hear you,” Stiles says again and then sinks down onto Danny’s cock once more.

When Danny bites down on his groan, Stiles takes it as a challenge. He frees one hand from digging finger-shaped bruises into Danny’s thigh to slip it behind him, letting the pad of his middle finger flutter over Danny’s hole. When Danny bangs his head against the door again, but doesn’t make a sound, Stiles opens his throat and swallows around the head. Danny bites off his moan even though Stiles can see how red his face is, how his chest heaves, how _hard_ it is for him to keep it in.

Stiles wants the noises. Needs them. Stiles uses his other hand to massage Danny’s balls and then slides the the tip of his finger inside Danny with a dry drag.

That’s all it takes to push Danny over the edge, spilling into Stiles mouth, and making the most obscene sounding keen Stiles has ever heard. Stiles, victorious, swallows down everything Danny gives him and then pulls back to press a sweet kiss to his slit.

Danny falls to his knees then, kisses Stiles messily while he digs his hand inside of Stiles jeans and brings him off in record time. Stiles has no problem groaning loudly and slipping out a, “Holy fuck, Danny. Yesssss,” loud enough that he knows even the humans heard. He imagines how it’ll make Danny blush later and that’s enough for him.

Later, Scott comes over to Stiles but can’t meet his gaze.

“What?” Stiles finally asks.

Scott shakes his head. “Nothing, man.” He’s uncomfortable and it makes Stiles grin.

He nudges up against Scott’s side and says cockily, “Don’t act like you’re not jealous that I disappeared into the closet to blow my husband. Marriage equals all the cock I want.”

Scott’s shocked, “Dude! Seriously?” is deeply satisfying.

 

******7** ** **

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-47789.html

_I have this terrible fear I might accidentally text a pic of my dick to my grandma_

_dude, your grandma's dead_

_oh, yeah. well. maybe my dad then? his numbers right next to it._

_who are you texting dick pics to?_

...

_stiles?_

...

_Stiles???_

...

_shit the only person you know whose name begins with 'd' is derek_

...

_stiles, pls say I'm wrong_

...

_stiles????_

...

_why are you sending dick pics to derek????_

...

_unless you have danny's number_

...

_but you don't, do you???_

...

_i'd be totally ok if it was danny. danny's a great guy_

...

_stiles, txt back, pls don't fuck derek_

...

_STILES_

...

_fuck._

*

He doesn't hear Derek come into his room, but that's nothing new.

"Stiles," Derek says, quiet and serious. Stiles jumps in his desk chair, flailing and falling to the ground.

" _Dude_ , not cool! Warn a guy."

Derek sinks down onto Stiles's bed. "You wouldn't happen to know why Scott keeps frantically texting me telling me not to fuck you. Would you?"

Stiles chokes. "Oh my god, I can't believe he actually text you."

"How did he even..." Derek makes a complicated eyebrow dance that Stiles thinks means, 'know we're fucking'.

"Dude, I didn't tell him. Not exactly."

"Stiles..." Derek says, warningly.

"I just told him I was worried I was going to accidentally send a dick shot to my dad one of these days. He might have slightly got the idea from there. You should see his texts though, they're hilarious."

Derek doesn't say anything.

Stiles walks over to stand between Derek's knees, dropping his arms over Derek's shoulder and loving the way Derek has to look up to him. "What's up, alpha, my alpha?" Stiles asks, tone light and teasing.

"I thought you didn't want them to know..." Derek answers, as Stiles runs a hand through his hair, Derek leaning into the touch.

"Mmm, I never said that."

Derek settles his hands on Stiles's ass. "I thought...."

Stiles pushes and Derek lets himself fall back onto the bed, legs still dangling over the side. Stiles crawls on top of him until he's straddling Derek's hips, ass resting against the hard press of Derek's cock.

"Love it when you're already hard for me," Stiles murmurs, leaning down and finally kissing him.

He loves the scrap of Derek's stubble, the press of Derek beneath him. He loves knowing that Derek is this ready for him. Derek wants him this much. "Stiles..."

"Why in the world would I not want people knowing you're mine?" Stiles doesn't have patience, but the thing is, neither does Derek. Derek who's already managed to slip a hand down the back of Stiles jeans, into his underwear and is grasping his ass.

He rubs his cock against Dereks, through the layers of material and feels Derek buck up against him. Riding Derek is like riding a force of fucking nature, he loves that Derek for all his strength and power is happy to let Stiles push him around.

"Mmm, got a surprise for you," Stiles teases before he runs his teeth along Derek's jaw, scraping the stubble, feeling Derek shudder.

"Don't like surprises," Derek mutters hand moving from Stiles's ass cheek down towards his hole.

"You'll like this one. You know you fucked me before school this morning?" Stiles lets his head rest against Derek's chest, takes a moment to savour this.

Derek nods, his fingers still sliding down Stiles's crack, down towards...

"Yeah, I didn't clean it out. That plugs been in there all day, just waiting for you to take it out and fuck me again. My hole's still wet and sloppy with your come, I've been walking around all day with a bit of you inside me..."

Stiles can almost fucking feel Derek's cock get harder, twitching and jerking inside his jeans. Derek's moan is fucking obscene, he's glad his dad's working.

"Yeah, thought you'd like that. So, you gonna fuck me, or what?"

*

 

Stiles's phone beeps and he can't fucking be bothered to go and get it. It's probably just Scott still freaking out. But apparently Derek can.

"It's your dad. Want me to read it?" Derek asks, trailing his hand lazily up and down Stiles's back.

"Sure whatever." Stiles is too fucked out to care about shit like this now. It's probably just a reminder to take the rubbish out.

The silence from above him and Stiles opens an eye to look at Derek. Derek who is frozen with a look of horror on his face.

"What's up?" Stiles asks.

Derek doesn't say anything. Stiles feels an edge of fear creeping in.

"...Derek?"

"I thought you'd got distracted sending the dick shot, because I didn't get anything."

He'd most definitely sent a dick shot. "Oh god."

"Yeah."

" _Fuck_."

 ** **8**  
 **Link to text chosen:**** [Text.](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49029.html)

Stiles: I'm just gonna go have sex with whom ever is in the men's room.  
Lydia: 'Whomever' is one word, and don't you dare hook up with a random at The Jungle. Where is Scott?  
Lydia: Stiles?  
Lydia: Do I have to do everything myself?

It wasn't that Scott was a bad wingman, Stiles decided, it was just that he didn't really know how. He had too much energy, so he'd go out on the dance floor and be swept up in the crowd immediately, leaving Stiles awkwardly on the sidelines.

Stiles chugged the last of his Coke and set the empty glass down. They let him in the club with his fake ID, but the bartender side-eyed him hard when Stiles tried to order a beer.

If he was going to do this, he was going to do this.

He glanced one last time at Scott, who was being fought over by a drag queen and a bear. Shaking his head, Stiles headed for the bathroom.

In the darkened hallway on the way to the men's room there were people in various states of hooking up against the walls. Stiles figured he'd just wait for someone to come along and pounce on them. He was only three steps down the dingy hallway when there was a hand pulling at the back of his collar. Before Stiles got a good look at his assailant, he was being pushed against the wall and there were lips pressing against his and a tongue teasing them open.

When the sneak-attack kisser pulled away enough for Stiles to get a good look at him, he was stunned speechless, well, almost.

“Danny?!? What are you doing? I mean, I'm not complaining. That is _not_ a complaint. Because you know how to kiss, man. But did you know it was _me_?”

“No, I always accost random guys on the way to the bathroom. It's kind of my move.”

Stiles' face heated in mortification.

“Oh my god, Stiles. You of all people should be familiar with sarcasm.”

“But you don't _like_ me.”

“There's just something about you, Stiles. You got under my skin. And under all the plaid, you're, well, hot. But after I brushed you off so many times, I didn't think you'd believe me if I asked you out. Am I too late?”

“Not too late. Not too late! Do you want to get out of here? My dad's on the night shift. To be perfectly honest, I didn't really want to lose my v-card in a public bathroom, I mean, if that's where this is headed. No pressure. You really think I'm hot?”

Danny answered with another blistering kiss.

He answered even more thoroughly when he had Stiles spread out naked with his mouth wet and sloppy around Stiles' cock and two slick fingers in Stiles' ass, pressing at an angle Stiles could never manage on his own.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Stiles was chanting. “I'm going to come. Do you-” He cut himself off with a choked sob as he came. Danny had moved his lips up to the head of Stiles' cock, swallowing as he stroked Stiles through the last shocks of his orgasm, then carefully pulling out his fingers.

Stiles lay boneless and panting. “Give me a second to come down from the stratosphere.”

“You don't have to.”

“Right, because I haven't thought about blowing you under the table in Chem lab for the last year.”

Before Danny could reply, Stiles was pawing open his jeans and taking out his cock. It was a little awkward, at first, but Danny guided Stiles when he could and Stiles was a remarkably fast learner.

So good that he looked positively smug as a he sat back on his heels, licking a lingering drop of come from his lips.

“Do you wanna stay?”

“I do. Believe me I do, but...my curfew.”

“I get it.”

“This isn't a one time thing, Stiles.” Danny sat up and kissed Stiles almost sweetly. Then he pulled himself off the bed. “I should get cleaned up.”

As he disappeared into the hallway, Stiles saw that Danny's phone had fallen out of his pocket. Curious, well, nosy, Stiles grabbed it, finding that Danny's texts were still open.

Lydia: Stiles is about to hook up with a stranger in the men's room. MAKE. YOUR. MOVE.

 

******9** ** **

****

**Link to text chosen:** [here](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48774.html)

“It’s a personal planner,” Lydia explains patiently. Allison’s eyes aren’t so wide because she doesn’t know what she’s holding in her hand; it’s more of a question of ‘why’. “It will remember important dates for you, and you can set a reminder so that it’ll warn you ahead that an event is coming up,” Lydia continues in that special tone that is supposed to sound like she wants everybody to understand, but actually is mostly employed to make Allison annoyed.

“Is this about that one time I forgot to pick up your dress, because‒” Allison starts, but Lydia waves her hand imperiously.

“Already forgiven, don’t worry. Now, I have places to be, and you have things to learn.” She kisses the air by Allison’s cheek, because it’s another thing that annoys Allison, and with an artfully lipsticked smile, she’s gone.

Allison looks down at the planner in her hand and sighs. If Stiles’ predictions ever come true and the machines turn against humans like in a sci-fi movie, Allison and Lydia will be the first ones to go. Their apartment is crammed with everything that’s supposed to make your life’s easier, and in reality makes frustrating beeping sounds when the battery is dying. Allison can never tell if it’s one of the phones, or a netbook, or even the fucking fridge.

She has every intention of dropping the planner in a bottom drawer in the kitchen in hopes that it will see the end of its sad electronic days there. Lydia won’t mind; in fact, Lydia probably won’t notice. She buys these things sometimes, and gets bored with them quickly.

But the device makes a surprisingly melodious sound, a plausible imitation of little bells, and the screen flashes white. Allison peers at it suspiciously. Apparently, Lydia’s already programmed one entry in.

‘You have (1) upcoming event. There is (1) other participant: (Lydia Martin),’ the message reads. ‘In less than (2) hours. Event Name: Great news! Tonight I’ll be ripping your underwear off with my teeth.’

It can’t be stressed enough: Lydia’s entire free time is consumed by thinking up new ways to aggravate Allison.

“Just,” Allison says, and stammers to a stop on a moan.

Lydia lifts her head briefly to give her a self-satisfied smirk. Her lipstick is smeared, matching red marks leading down Allison’s neck and colouring her nipple. Lydia’s sprawled on her stomach between Allison’s legs, and she looks very comfortable, and very much like she isn’t going to move any time soon.

“That’s not even a proper sentence,” Lydia says. Her breasts are pressing into Allison’s stomach. Allison wants to smoulder her with a pillow.

“Just do something,” Allison hisses. She hopes it sounds venomous, but the blissful smile on Lydia’s face tells her that no, it doesn’t.

“I strongly believe in giving one lesson at a time,” Lydia says, lowering her head to suck at the skin stretching over Allison’s collarbones almost as an afterthought. She lets go with a wet sound. “But we need to work on the way you express yourself next time. Right now, though, the lesson is punctuality.”

What Lydia says makes very little sense to Allison, but to be fair, she’s not exactly dying to unravel the mystery, either. She’s too busy with Lydia’s lips, traveling the delicate arcs of Allison’s ribs; her teeth, scraping over the taut skin of Allison’s stomach; her tongue, tracing wet patterns across Allison’s hip.

They both freeze at the distant, cheerful sound of the personal planner coming to life with another notification. Allison’s gaze flickers briefly, involuntarily, to the bedroom floor where she tossed it in frustration. When she looks back at Lydia, with her halo of hair slipping from a professional updo, there’s a wicked glint in Lydia’s eyes.

“See,” she says pointedly, like this explains everything and proves once and for all that Lydia’s right, always. “Right on the dot.”

And then she slithers gracefully down Allison’s body, down and down, until her breath is an almost-touch through Allison’s panties. Lydia dips her head, quick, unexpected-but-expected. Her teeth scrape lightly over Allison’s skin and snatch at the elastic of her panties.

Allison can’t lift her hips fast enough to help take them off. She doesn’t push her luck by reminding Lydia there was something about ripping in there.

That’s the next lesson.

 

******10** ** **

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48526.html

Scott comes out of his room the first morning after, and Stiles wolf-whistles at him from over his laptop and Cheerios.

"Nice," he says. "Seeeeriously nice."

"You saw him go?" Scott asks. He'd woken up and the guy hadn't been there.

"Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome left half an hour ago," Stiles says, waggling his eyebrows. "Did you get his number? One of us should definitely get on that again. In fact, I volunteer."

"Nah," Scott says. "He didn't seem into follow-ups." He'd definitely seemed into other things though. Like Scott's dick.

"What a waaaste," Stiles singsongs, before going back to his Cheerios and the internet.

&&&

Stiles looks at him accusingly when he comes out of his room on the second morning after. "You totally _did_ get his number," he says flatly. "Liar!"

"I didn't!" Scott insists, still bleary-eyed and bedheaded. "Bros don't lie to bros!"

"Ugh," Stiles says, "you just have all the luck. Did you get his number this time, then?"

"No," Scott said. "He wouldn't."

He wouldn't give Scott his number, or even his name, but he gave Scott plenty of other things. His mouth, for kisses; his ass, for other things.

"I don't even want to know what you're remembering right now," Stiles says, and sourly goes back to his Froot Loops.

&&&

" _Three times is a pattern_ ," Stiles bellows, pounding on Scott's bedroom door after the third morning after.

"I don't know what happened!" Scott says ten minutes later, now with his clothes on. "I swear I can't go out anymore. It's like he put a GPS in my dick or something." He's not sure whether he should feel awkward or proud.

"Okay," Stiles says, pacing, "okay. Well. He's clearly got some serious hots for you. Tell me you at least got his number this time."

They had been busy, not a second spent with mouths free. At least, not until Scott was laid out on his back, and then he'd been too preoccupied with panting his pleasure into the air to ask for anything but _more_.

Scott doesn't know what his expression looks like, but it makes Stiles groan.

&&&

Part of Scott doesn't even want to ask the guy for his name. There's a kind of magic to it, a blood-deep magnetism that he feels even before he's looked through the dancing crowd and seen—

Yes.

Their gazes catch and snag on each other, and part of Scott feels trapped by it even as his skin starts to heat. This is the fourth night, the fourth club, the fourth time Scott has felt absolutely stripped by the way this guy looks at him as he makes his way closer. But if two's a coincidence and three is a pattern, then four must be...

The guy presses Scott against the wall, bracketing him in with his arms and his familiar leather smell. There's a moment of fraught eye contact, and then they are kissing like beasts, mouths open wide, tongues shoved deep. There is something between them, almost painfully intense.

Scott gets a grip on the guy's leather jacket and forces their bodies apart. The kiss breaks, leaving them both panting. The guy's face looks raw and open, maybe even a bit terrified, cheeks flushed under the rough of his stubble.

Scott says, "If three times is a pattern—"

"I'm Derek," the guy blurts.

There is a long pause, the bass thumping in the background. Then, Scott says, " _it's about time_."

They fuck that night slower than they had any of the previous.

"You want to be here?" Scott asks, pressing in without stopping at all. Derek shakes his head over and over into the pillow as his fingers clutch at the sheet helplessly, until it's all bunched into a mess.

"You do, don't you," Scott breathes, watching the tense lines of Derek's back until he grits out:

"Fuck. _Fuck_ , yes, I—"

"Then stay afterward, and give me your fucking number," Scott says, and fucks Derek steadily, until he's sweaty and trembling, face-down, moaning, even begging.

Scott comes before he can help himself when Derek grits out " _please_ ", but makes it up afterward. He sucks Derek down long and easy, because he's good at it, and there is a tenderness in the way Derek touches his face.

"Stay," Scott says, as they lay next to each other later, in the dark.

"Fine," Derek says. He rolls his eyes, and rolls over.

Derek is a little bit of a dick, Scott thinks.

He could be into that.

******11** ** **

**Link to text chosen:** <http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-41234.html>

****

When Derek blatantly rejected Stiles, after _clearly_ returning his kiss, hands just beginning to dance under Stiles’ shirt, he said, "I'm sorry," before slinking back into the darkness. Stiles was confused. He spent an excessive amount of time in the mirror, feeling his self-confidence dropping.

 

 

***

Stiles didn't give up. If anything, it only made him try harder. He spent time in the gym, outside of lacrosse, pushing himself harder, toning up. When he began to see a change, he decided to try again. He paraded around shirtless on a particularly hot day. He’d never seen Derek show less interest in him. Stiles was embarrassed.

***

Stiles still didn't give up. He trained harder and decided to be more helpful, even going as far as trying to be less snarky to Derek. (Key word, “trying,” because that broody bastard didn't make it easy.) But as Stiles helped Scott haul things into Derek’s new place, Derek just grumbled something about going to get food and left them there to do all the work.

"I give up," said Stiles, dropping the box he was holding, earning a displeased grunt from Scott.

"Oh, leave _me_ to do all the heavy lifting when this was your idea." Scott put down his box and tossed Stiles a water bottle. "What do you give up on?"

"Derek. He’s so- I've done everything. I don’t know what he wants from me."

"Maybe he doesn't-"

Stiles splashed water at Scott’s face. "No, shut up. He kissed me back, then nothing. So, I give up. We’ll finish this, wait for the food, then I’m just going to eat until there’s an actual reason why he doesn’t want to fuck me."

"TMI, dude." Scott bumped his shoulder against Stiles, and they got back to work.

 

***

Stiles gave up. He stopped going to the gym, sticking to his lacrosse-only routine, but he did start baking. Baking calmed him down, helped him focus so he wouldn't do stupid shit like text Derek, or worse, text or call everyone else to ask about Derek. The house smelled great and he always had awesome snacks to share. Soon enough, baked goods and sweets weren't getting picked up as often, leaving Stiles to say, “More for me!” and eating the rest himself.

***

Stiles hadn't noticed a change, not really, until some asshole called him "tubby" in the changing room, and he was surprised to find that that asshole was right. He wasn't _big_ , but definitely pudgy where he’d been lean before, bit more meat in his face, bit more jiggle in his belly. It wasn't like he was getting laid anyway.

It was that day Stiles got a call from Derek to help him with his laptop, because the 21st century and Derek still didn't quite agree. So he went.

The charger was unplugged. He was surprised to find Derek looming over him wordlessly with a beer, but he took it anyway.

They sat in silence, watching TV, but every time Derek got up, he’d sit down closer to Stiles. Stiles was confused.

"Dude, what gives?"

"Hm?" Derek didn't look away from the TV.

"This, you all close and us _hanging out_? You clearly rejected me."

"Stiles-"

Stiles was having none of that, so he went for it, shutting Derek up with a kiss. Derek kissed back, hands going to Stiles’ hips, sliding under his shirt. Stiles froze, but instead of the push he was expecting, Derek’s fingers dug into the flesh there and pulled him closer.

He broke up the kiss to question it, but didn't get a chance as Derek practically tore off his tee and nuzzled into him.

"Fuck. Look so good like this." Derek’s hands continued to roam. Stiles wanted to push away, embarrassed.

Derek pushed Stiles down, sliding between Stiles’ thighs, hips grinding slowly, making Stiles forget embarrassment.

Stiles moaned when Derek pushed his hands up to hold the side of the couch, leaving him on display.

Derek kissed Stiles’ neck, buried his face in Stiles’ armpit, never stopping the movement of his hips. Fuck, Stiles was going to come in his pants if he didn't stop.

Derek didn't stop, grinding harder and faster, babbling about Stiles' "perfect, soft curves," his "beautiful belly." Stiles was so close he could cry, just one more- yes! He came in his pants; cock feeling oversensitive as Derek kept going, grinding hard until he practically collapsed on top of Stiles, breathing heavy.

The silence was awkward. "So, that happened."

"Shut up, Stiles."

 **12**  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48995.html

 

“Derek,” Stiles moaned, “Please…”

He heard the man let out a low growl against his lips, the feeling causing vibrations and shivers to run through Stiles’ body. There was harsh breathing against his ear, and a sharp bite against his neck that had him arching and clenching his eyes. His sense thrummed happily, and his cock strained against his zipper.

Stiles was a bit of an exhibitionist. He loved the fact he would need to stay quietly; he loved the knowledge that their friends and family were just outside the door, talking and conversing happily; he loved the prospect of getting caught at any moment. It sent a thrill through his spine, makes his senses even more perceptible to touch.

It was a match made in heaven when he met Derek Hale. Strong and grumpy and ridiculously gorgeous, the man liked to exhibit control and, more importantly, give Stiles what he wants. It’s a good thing they have so much in common.

Stiles whined desperately and rocked down onto Derek’s cock, silently telling him what he needed. Derek thrust upwards, catching Stiles’ hitched moan in a kiss before releasing the younger man suddenly. His hands were urging as they pushed Stiles to his knees, and Stiles wasted no time in unbuckling his suit pants, tugging them away to get to Derek’s cock. He was pleased to see the lack of underwear barrier. If there was ever a time to love the fact that Derek hated boxers, it would be now.

Peering up under his eyelashes, Stiles licked across the head, humming at the taste of pre-cum, before taking all of the cock into his mouth. The weight was heavy and wonderful and fuck if Stiles ever questioned whether he was gay, all he had to do was suck some cock and it would all come flooding back.

Derek’s cheeks were flushed red and his eyes were dark, sharp as he watched everything with that stupidly attractive intensity. His hands cupped Stiles’ face, thumbs and fingers brushing at the hollowness in his cheeks, and brushing the seam of Stiles’ lips around his cock. He felt the wrap of tongue along the underside of his cock and his grip flexed painfully.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Derek snapped out, half breathless, half angered.

Stiles grinned around his cock, amusement dancing in his eyes and deliberately hummed. He watched delighted when the man cursed and tossed his head back, revealing the sharp angular edges of his neck and jaw.

Derek was close, Stiles could tell. He had done this so many times that he could see the tell-tale signs as instinctively as he breathed. It was in the shuddering intakes of breath and the bruising grip on his face, his hair. It was in the uncontrolled jerk of his hips that Derek always tried desperately to regain power over, because the man hated to let people know he was out of control, even in a situation like this.

Stiles pulled over, sucking teasingly at the spongy head, before nuzzling his way along the underside until his face was buried in the space between cock and balls. He licked and nipped gently, laving the skin with attention. He felt the balls draw up suddenly and away from him, felt the shaking, and he just about managed to pull away to get Derek to cum across his face. His eyes closed and he gasped, the hot spurts painting his cheekbones, lips and hair with cum.

It was only when Derek’s hands brushed his cheeks that he opened his eyes.

“Hi,” he croaked out.

“Hey,” Derek said his voice rough.

Stiles raised his hand, wiped a line and sucked his thumb pointedly.

Derek made a broken noise. “Fuck you Stiles,” he cursed without heat.

“Later,” Stiles promised, “First, we need to get back to the wedding rehearsal.”

“Right,” Derek agreed, quickly stuffing his cock back into his trousers and zipping up, “I have no idea how you convinced me into this.”

“As if you were objecting,” he reminded, “And by the way, you owe me for this. Now I’ve do my best man speech with a hard on.”

Derek grinned impishly. He stepped closer, hands hovering teasingly over Stiles’ waistband. “Well, we’re going to have to do something about that…”

Stiles’ tensed in anticipation, and his breathing deepened slightly. Derek’s fingers popped the button, and Stiles licked his lips.

And then his phone rang.

Barely suppressing a groan, Stiles fumbled into his pocket to open the text.

SCOTT: Dude, please tell me you haven’t abandoned me with Allison’s parents so you and Derek can fuck

STILES: Don’t act like you’re not jealous that I disappeared into the closest to blow my husband. Marriage = all the cock I want.

SCOTT: Far too much information Stiles! Now, please, come and safe me.

STILES: Give me five minutes.

He shoved his phone roughly into his pockets, and gave Derek a look. “We’ve got five minutes, and then Scott’s going to come hunting for us.”

Derek grinned mischievously. “Maybe we should give him a show. A late wedding gift.”

Stiles felt the cold air and gasped loudly at the unexpected temperature change. “Sounds like a fucking fantastic idea. Get to work solider.”

“Aye, aye Captain,” Derek gave a mock salute.

**13**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48423.html

 

"I can't believe you did that."

"You're really going to talk about this now?"

"I think it needs to be talked about. You have anger management problems."

"Werewolf, remember?"

Lydia put her hands down on Peter's chest and smiled at him; it was a wicked smirk, one that would have made less men cower away. She arched back as she pushed down, riding him faster and faster, her legs squeezing his sides as they were stretched out in his bed. They alternated between his place, in the newly remodeled Hale house, and hers, the hosue she inherited in a matter of speaking when her mom left for New York. Lydia couldn't leave Beacon Hills, and the house held a great many memories.

His hands wrapped around her tiny waist, fingers grazing over the scars on her side left so long ago. He'd marked her then, not knowing what would happen, not this far at least but here they were. His mate, the one who completed him, wrapped in a fiery red-haired package. It was times like this when he knew there was no one else for him. He growled, his eyes flashing red as he pulled her down closer to him and kissed her bright red lips, nipping them a bit.

"Werewolf or not you shouldn't have done it."

Lydia kept moving, her whole body on fire as they moved together. She knew it infuriated him that she could equally throw herself into lovemaking as well as have a seemingly unrelated conversation with him. But she could. It wasn't something she did often as Lydia wanted to express her love for him as well but he had gone over the line earlier and it could just be forgotten yet.

"You punched a guy Peter. He nearly flew across the room."

Peter gripped her tighter and could feel hismelf getting closer and closer. Her breathing was a sign that Lydia was as well. Her scent was becoming stronger as she neared the edge as well. he so loved watching her get to that point and then sending her over the edge all the while knowing that he had a hold of her.

"That's it baby, just like that. Fuck I love how you feel around me."

Peter's voice had dropped to a snarly growl, one that turned Lydia on even more. She pressed her fingers harder into his chest, slowly pressing her own nails against his skin. Oh it would hurt a little but not for too long. Still, she liked to do it. Her breathing WAS getting harder and more shallow as her control rapidly lessened.

"Oh... oh god Peter.... just like that... oh yes so so goood..."

Neither of them had any intention of waiting and the gyrating intentional movement of Lydia's hips served only one purpose and that was to push Peter over the edge. Her hair fell over her shoulders and brushed down against his neck and chest, and Peter could smell the strawberries of her shampoo mixed with the vanilla of her lotion. It was one of his favourite smells, and it would forever be associated with her.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, fuck yes!"

It was a few minutes befoe they both had quelled their orgams and Lydia collapsed on him nuzzling his neck, smiling against his skin. It never failed to amaze her the depth of passion and emotion she felt for Peter and vice versa. She reached up and slowly stroked his hair as they lay there.

"But seriously, you punch him, Peter. You just can't."

"I didn't punch him it was just love coming out of my fist."

Lydia lifted her head and looked at him, her eyebrow raised in question. She leaned down and kissed him softly.

"That's what you're going with, really?"

Peter gave her a look, it was almost serious and he held onto her as he flipped them around, wrapped himself around her, hodling her close.

"He grabbed your ass and tried to feel you up. He's lucky he still has hands. You're mine, and every better get damn used to it."

Lydia smiled slowly; possessive Peter was actually really hot she had to admit. And he was possessive about her. She knew but it was nice to hear. She could have gotten rid of the drunk guy on her own but Peter's way worked too. She had to keep him from killing people, warranted or not. She pressed closer to him and kissed him back slow and deep.

"Yours, always. Yours."

 

 **14**  
 **Link to text chosen:** http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49149.html

 

 _The woman that sang I Touch Myself died today. There's only one appropriate way to honor her memory._ Stiles grins and waits for Scott’s reply, laying back and getting comfortable against his pillows. Whether his friend answers his text or not, Stiles is settling in for some “me” time. Honoring the singers memory is as good an excuse as any. Not that he really needs one.

He reaches out and grabs his phone when it dings, a fond half-grin on his face as he reads Scott’s message. _”Dude, I’m at work!”_

Shaking his head, he taps the screen to answer just as another message comes in. _”Also, eww! Did not need to know what you and little Stiles were up to tonight! :(((((“_

Stiles’ grin turns wicked and for a moment he’s tempted to further torment his best friend. After all, it’s only fair. How many times has Stiles had to endure Scott’s Allison-related exploits?

Deciding he has better things to do -- namely the hard-on he’s still sporting from watching the wolves ~~Derek~~ run around half naked for most of the afternoon -- he turns his ringer off and tosses his phone in the general direction of his desk. Digging under his pillow for the bottle of lube, he glances over at the open -- empty -- window and lets a smug smile cross his face. It may be empty _now_ , but that wouldn't last long.

Getting comfortable, he allows his hands to roam over his body, down his chest to his nipples, giving them a tweak as he passes by. He’s got time, but he’s impatient, ready to get to the main event; but he waits. There’s a specific sound he’s waiting for as he strokes down his belly, running his fingers through the line of hair that runs down between his legs.

He plays with the skin at his hip joint, letting the back of his finger graze over his cock every now and then, just teasing before sliding the tips of his fingers down the length of it. The scrape of claws against the window sill catches his attention, but he pays it no mind, just smirks like a cat with feathers hanging out of his mouth.

“You gonna join me this time?” he asks quietly, his attention still on what he’s doing with his hands. When the silence goes on for a few seconds, he nods his head and reaches for the lube, squirting some on his hands. “That’s okay. You just watch, then.”

Stiles moans as he finally wraps his hand around himself, stroking just this side of too tight for a couple of seconds. His hand slides smoothly up and down his length, and he bucks his hips a little just to add to the show. He turns half-lidded eyes to the window just as a shadow moves across the room.

“Derek,” Stiles whispers as he feels the bed dip by his hip. He reaches out his free hand and grunts in frustration as it’s batted away. Huffing, Stiles lets that hand drift down, past his balls, and back, until the tips of his fingers graze lightly as his hole.

Stiles plants his feet on the bed, spreading his legs and opening himself up, dipping his finger in knuckle deep with a wailing moan. His breathing picks up and his heart beats jackrabbit fast as Derek leans over him, his eyes red and trained on Stiles’ ever-moving hands. Stiles move the hand on his dick faster, flicking over the head on the upstroke and tightening his grip on the way down. He’s not going to last long like this, not with Derek focusing so intently on him.

Stiles gasps as a sudden gust of warm air ghosts over his cock. Opening eyes he hadn’t realized he closed, he looks down his body and his body tighten at the sight of Derek crouching over his hip, his mouth inches from Stiles’ straining erection. Stiles hips buck up involuntarily, and Derek jerks back, turning wide eyes on Stiles.

“Please,” Stiles groans. “Derek. Please.”

For a second, Stiles thinks Derek might bolt. He’s tensed and turning, ready to spring for the window. A whimper from Stiles has him turning back, and the next second Stiles is coming hard. Derek’s fingers are wrapped firmly around Stiles’ cock, linked tightly between Stiles’ own.

“Rest in peace, Christina,” Stiles croaks and drifts off to the sound of Derek’s fond exasperation.

**15**

**Link to text chosen:** <http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-32346.html>

Lydia: After Thursday my breakup "don't screw anybody out of respect" month will be over and I will be set loose. My pussy is purring with anticipation.

Alli: You want to get laid?

Lydia: Get laid? Nothing so trite. I want to fuck some guy’s brains out.

Alli: ...

Lydia: You with Scott? Dare you to use your birthday present.

Alli: !!!

Lydia: Make that pussy purr, Allison. Or rather his. Be the alpha. He’ll love it.

Allison burst out laughing.

Scott sat up and curled around her. “What’s so funny?”

“Lydia.”

“She okay?”

Allison set her phone on the bedside table. Scott slid his arms around her and she sank against him. “I think she might be. Scott?”

Scott flopped back down on the bed, hands tucked behind his head. “What?”

Allison glanced at her boyfriend, still fresh from his shower. No shirt, his skin smooth and oh yes, she thought as a rush of warmth pooled deep inside her, she liked Lydia’s suggestion quite a lot. She placed one hand over his jean-clad cock.

Scott’s eyes widened. “Alli--“

Placing one finger on his lips she drew it down his chin, then his chest. Every inch traveled, finger to skin, made the heat in her--she smiled--her pussy flame hotter.

Scott gulped. “Allison?” he squeaked as her finger moved past his belly. His breath hitched.

Without taking her eyes from his, she undid his fly, one button after another. The heat poured from his cock and her confidence grew as a groan escaped.

 _“Allison....”_ He closed his eyes, cocking his hips up.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

“’kay.”

Allison waited a moment to make sure he was going to do as he was told. Satisfied, she slipped into the bathroom and tugged off her clothes, shivering in anticipation or probably from the slight chill from the cool tile. She opened the bottom drawer where she kept it hidden. _It_ being the "gift" Lydia had bought her. She’d been mortified, but she’d kept it, and was now glad. It took a moment to put on but, watching herself in the mirror, she was well-pleased. Flowers on a cock were pretty silly but she liked it.

“Allison?”

“Shut your eyes. Take off your jeans and turn onto your stomach.”

“What? But-- I’ll be naked.“

“I know. Trust me, Scott,” she said.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

She peeked around the bathroom door and once satisfied he was ready, she grabbed the lube and walked into the room and got on the bed behind him and pulled his hips up. He yelped in surprise and opened his eyes, turning his head to stare at her strap-on. His gaze traveled up her naked body, and his face flushed at her stern look.

“Turn around, Scott,” she said, her voice soft, commanding.

He collapsed onto the pillows, a groan escaping him as she placed her hands on his backside. She squirted some lube out, rubbing it over her cock head and his hole. A rush of appreciation, lust and oh fuck yeah a screaming _need_ to slam into him pushed her on.

Grabbing his balls she squeezed, making him shudder; precome dripped down his cock. She started to stroke him, making him moan --so unbelievably hot, that--and pushed her cock head in.

Scott howled, bucking against her but not away... _into_ her. A thrill of power rushed through her as she let loose, pumping her hips into him, deeper and deeper with each thrust. She almost laughed at the sounds of their bodies smacking together, but the way Scott embraced what she was doing? That near undid her.

She’d never done this before but it didn’t matter; it didn’t take long for Scott to swell unbelievably in her hand. Her clit burned with the need for release but this, this? She could almost get off on making Scott scream and moan and even howl as the wolf in him responded to being soundly and thoroughly fucked.

Pulling out just as she sensed he was about to come she pushed him onto his back and straddled him, sliding her aching clit up and down his slick, hot shaft until he finally came, she following not long behind. She collapsed onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

After a long moment, he said, “Tell Lydia thanks for the suggestion.”

Allison looked at him in surprise, then saw her phone sitting next to them. She laughed. “I will. I promise.”

 

**16**

**Link to text chosen:** http://tfl.nu/4mcu - **(815):** I've noticed we have slowly begun to phase the "B" out of our Bromance.

 

It's only once Isaac has left for Santa Ana to spend the summer with his aunt and after he and Allison are on the outs for the seventh or eighth time that Scott sees what Stiles has been saying since they were eight-years-old - always under the guise of a joke.

" _Dude_ , I am a way better friend to you than you are to me."

If it hadn't been for school, Scott doubted he'd have seen Stiles at all. He labels this summer the 'Make It Up to Stiles Summer' and stands awkwardly on his doorstep, hands in his pockets.

Stiles squints against the sunlight and snorts. "Back to scrape the bottom of the barrel again, Scotty?"

His summer plan is not off to a great start.

 

* * *

Scott gets the feeling Stiles doesn't really trust him anymore. He still looks surprised when Scott shows up, opening the door with his phone in hand like he'd been expecting a text that would cancel. Scott knows that even with all the time they've spent apart, he's never stopped thinking of Stiles as his best friend. He's realizing that Stiles hasn't thought of him that way for a long time.

It _hurts_ more than he can put into words.

Stiles hangs out with Danny and Lydia, Allison even, so Scott takes whatever free time Stiles will give him until they're hanging out almost every day. He's forgotten what it's like to be around him, how he never has to explain anything because Stiles just _gets_ him or how borderline unbelievable Stiles is when it comes to supporting him or how fun he is - Stiles has been dragging him out on adventures since they were five.

Scott had also forgotten what Stiles's scent meant to him (or maybe he'd never realized before) until he wakes up with a face full of it. Stiles smells like family. His house smells like home. Scott shifts closer to his best friend and closes his eyes.

 

* * *

Scott languishes on Stiles's bed, staring up at the ceiling, distantly listening to the pitter-patter of the shower. Stiles is getting ready for an afternoon with Danny and Lydia. Scott's pointedly not been invited. Stiles steps out, towel wrapped around his waist, and starts picking through the clothes on his floor. Scott waits until he's close enough, grabs his wrist and pulls him down on the bed with him.

He buries his nose in Stiles's neck and breathes in deep. Stiles rolls his eyes and pushes him off by the face but he's smiling while he does it.

 

* * *

The first day of school rolls around and Scott can tell Stiles is uneasy. Isaac is back and he and Allison are talking again. Stiles looks like he's dreading when the other shoe will drop. Scott's determined to make him understand that he comes first, just as he always should've.

He stays over at Stiles's the night before. They're walking out the door, making sure they have everything, when Scott whirls on him and presses his closed mouth to Stiles's. He pulls back and levels him with a gauging stare.

He gets a weak flutter of a smile for his efforts. He'll take it.

 

* * *

He still sleeps over at Stiles's all the while. They do homework together, research beasties together, play video games together. They do everything together. It feels only natural that when he wakes up and notices that Stiles is hard next to him, that they should do this together too. It doesn't feel like a sex thing. It feels like an intimate thing and Scott wants that.

He pushes down Stiles's boxers, wraps a hand around his cock and stares into Stiles's surprised eyes while he gets him off. He doesn't break eye contact, not even to kiss him, while Stiles gasps and arches and grips tight to Scott's biceps.

Stiles comes and his heart is thumping wildly and Scott tells him, "I've never felt more comfortable than I do around you."

 

* * *

He and Stiles go out to the woods, climbing over rotted-out logs, and Stiles says he feels like Scott is the Hobbes to his Calvin. They break out into a clearing and Stiles lies down. Scott readily takes the spot next to him. Stiles's fingers tentatively reach out to twist around his. He squints and says, "I've noticed we've slowly begun to phase the 'B' out of our bromance."

Scott's stomach churns and he shifts up onto his elbow. "Is that okay?"

Stiles grins.

**17**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48250.html and http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48687.html and http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48433.html and http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48479.html

 **Title:** Blue Ribbon

Scott has a faded blue ribbon pinned to the wall by his bed so he can see it first thing in the morning and last thing before he falls asleep at night. In very careful cursive, it says "Scott McCall: First Place in Friendship." It's gotten ratty over the ten years since Stiles gave it to him, but Scott cherishes it above all other awards or trophies. It's the last thing he packs with him to take to college and the first thing he hangs on the wall in his and Boyd's dorm room. Stiles and Isaac are two buildings over in an attempt to appease their parents that they're branching out.

Scott wakes up blearily on his first morning of college life, focusing on his ribbon, the half-unpacked boxes still in the middle of the floor, and the soft buzzing of his phone. A text from Stiles:

**Just jerked off with bubble wrap. Not as awesome as it sounds.**

Scott heads to freshman orientation with a massive grin on his face. Nothing's going to change them.

***

The four of them check out a frat during Rush Week and get invited back for a "private party," which Stiles was sure meant half-naked women. Instead it was code for a creepy dinner date scenario, with each of them assigned to an upperclassman. Scott's is seriously aggressive and he's debating letting his claws out when he realizes Stiles left the room. His phone beeps with an incoming text:

**Code 10 We gotta leave. Now. I took a dump in the upstairs toilet and its clogged and overflowing.**

They wind up each excusing themselves for the bathroom and crawl out an upstairs window, barely containing their gag reflexes and their laughter.

***

A few days later, Stiles texts Scott, asking to borrow one of the books they bought together for their Women's Studies class. Scott's on an epic Skype date with Allison and doesn't get the message until several hours later, followed up by another text soon after:

**I can't even express how horny I am. The English language isn't equipped for what I'm plotting.**

It doesn't even register to Scott as odd – just Stiles. He touches his finger briefly to the blue ribbon in apology as he grabs the book. The Camaro is parked in the lot by Stiles and Isaac's building, and Scott remembers it's Tuesday, the day Derek drives down to take Boyd to breakfast and Isaac to lunch. It's 10:00 now, though, so perhaps Stiles managed to coerce Derek into adding dinner with Stiles to his rotation.

There are noises behind Stiles and Isaac's door, and Derek is still there, but Scott doesn't stop to think or concentrate on the sounds or smells, just opens the door.

He regrets it immediately.

That's his best friend's dick there on full display. Because he is naked, and pressed up against Derek, also naked, also with a hard dick out for the world to see. Or just Scott, as he's the only one there, standing in the doorway, held in place by the mesmerizing sight of Derek's well-muscled ass as it flexes with each thrust down. Stiles shifts, throwing a leg over Derek's hip, and at least Scott can't see the dicks anymore. The noises, though, as both of them gasp and moan at the new angle, are almost enough to drive Scott insane.

He's about to slam the door shut and break up this party when his wolf ears pick up what Stiles is mumbling against Derek's neck, "Stay, please, please…"

Derek must like what he's hearing, as his whole body bends in an impossible curve, taut for one second before he's coming with a groan that travels all the way up from his toes. Even Scott can feel it, but Stiles, right there in the action, looks like he's seen the face of God. Scott quickly averts his eyes, but he can still hear Stiles' come hitting Derek's body and the slick sound of their tongues and wet skin rubbing together as they begin some serious afterglow petting and kissing.

Scott leaves the book on the floor and tiptoes out, sacrificing his own sock to tie around the door to protect Isaac. He can't resist texting Stiles later, though:

**Derk, S? Reallly?**

**OMG.**

**I saw yr dicks!**

**Payback Mr. Allison! I either had a 6 minute orgasm or I had so many I lost count. I'm still not sure. :P**

Scott has _earned_ that blue ribbon!

 

**18**

**Link to text chosen:**[Text1](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48169.html) and [Text2](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-47680.html)

“Amber, I’m having an emotional breakdown watching baby sloths on Youtube. You need to come save me from myself.” Stiles whined plaintively into the phone. Energy buzzed under his skin like a million baby bees and it was driving him to distraction.

He wanted something to do. He **needed** it. Sadly, Scott was out of town on a celebratory mother-son trip after passing his first set of college finals so he had no-one to shoot the celebratory shit with. If he had been there though Stiles was sure his weekend would’ve ended a little bit differently.

For instance, the getting totally smashed and grinding up against strangers in at Desert? Totally still would’ve happened, but possibly without the shirtlessness and ruffled skirt.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck, your _ass_.” Someone was groaning into his ear.

Stiles wasn’t sure who it was just yet, he only knew that they had broad shoulders and fucking beautiful hands. Large, gorgeous hands that were sliding up his thighs and having entirely too much fun with the string bikini underwear Stiles will swear until his dying day was someone else's idea. He’ll regret it later. Tomorrow maybe.

When he felt the telltale slip of the strings and the heavy weight of a man’s hand cupping his dick he blearily came to the realization that he liked this, quite a bit actually. He has no problem stumbling drunkenly after the guy when asked if he minded them finding someplace a little more private than the dance floor. He had enough sense left to introduce him to the girls first though, and the guy must’ve passed muster because Desiree promptly gave them one of the keys to the hotel room they booked just down the street and an encouraging pat on the butt. The she was chatting with looked somewhat familiar but and slightly horrified at the sight of them but not enough for Stiles to ignore the Adonis shaped being leading him by the hand out of the club.

Drunk and horny as they were they managed to make it to the room without falling over too much and with only minimal public nudity. Sure Stiles panties were missing by the time they got there, and he’s pretty sure that he mooned traffic at some point, but he was too busy marking up the other guy to really care. The grinding against the guys’ Porsche was particularly memorable.

As soon as they are in the door he’s trying to grab at the guy but the sprint to the room took a lot out of the both of them and the most they can manage is to literally fall into bed together. Stiles thinks he might have just enough coordination to flip them over so he can suck the guy but gets distracted by Adonis already nuzzling up his thighs and sucking him down hungrily enough to make him jerk and keen at the wet pressure of it. Stiles is laying back against the cold pillows, greedily listens for every dirty sound, clutching at the bouffant ruffles of his white skirt and all the while cursing the fact that it’s hiding all the interesting details. Not that he could see much in the dim light afforded by the streetlights outside anyway but still, it might give him something to focus on besides coming embarrassingly quick. The rhythmic thudding and woman screaming “Yes daddy, more!” next door was slightly distracting but not enough. Then those large, beautiful hands were grasping his thighs and hefting them up and open and--

“ _Fuck_!”

He was sweating, thighs shaking, and stomach flexing as he fought the urge to thrust. Not that he could get much deeper into that devilish mouth if he tried.

“C’mon, c’mon, _c’mon_!” Stiles begged.

 _Close_...

The guy pulled off and dropped his legs in response only to bend and pull him into a filthy wet kiss, grabbing both of their cocks and giving two fast, saliva slick pulls that had them both coming into the flimsy material of the skirt. Adonis fell over groaning and they both passed out minutes later, satiated and sticky with cum.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“What the **HELL** Stilinski?!” Jackson Whittemore was yelling the next morning.

... _Dear god too much yelling_...

Jackson, who supposedly went back to his hometown with his high-school sweetheart last night.

“Stay calm! I swear there is a totally heterosexual explanation for this!” Stiles was cursing his luck.

“There'd better be!” Jackson was snarling.

There really, _really_ isn’t though...


	6. Group B (no warnings)

**19**

**Link to text chosen:** [here](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-32235.html)

 

Stiles and Derek have been fucking for three months.

It's just fucking: Stiles is trying to get over Lydia and Derek is damaged, using sex to fight whatever demons keep him awake at night.

It doesn't mean anything.

*

"God, Stiles," Derek groans, twisting three of his fingers deep in Stiles' come-filled ass. "You're going to be the death of me."

Stiles grins, breathless and sore in the best way, and hooks his hands behind his thighs to hold himself open. "Best way to go."

Derek rolls his eyes, pulls his fingers free, and pushes in with his dick, barely giving himself time to bottom out before he starts fucking Stiles with hard, perfect thrusts. Stiles' dick throbs, leaving strings of pre-come on his stomach. It's the third time they've fucked in as many hours, and Stiles spares a moment to thank the universe for the combination of werewolf and teenage stamina.

And then he stops thinking much at all.

*

"What's this?" Stiles says, taking the unwrapped box from Derek.

Derek shrugs. "I stepped on your watch last time we were at my loft. Consider it an apology."

Inside is a silver watch, much like the one Derek had broken. _Stiles Stilinski_ is engraved on the back.

"Oh." Stiles blinks. "Thanks."

*

Stiles likes to be fucked from behind, likes to have his ass in the air and his shoulders pressed down into the mattress as Derek splits him wide open on his dick, pounding his hips so hard against Stiles' ass there are bruises for days afterward.

Derek likes it too, Stiles thinks; he likes to press his nails into Stiles' hips, likes to hold Stiles' ass cheeks apart so he can watch the rim stretch around him, likes to shove so deep inside it makes Stiles stop breathing.

*

Stiles stares at the leather wallet Derek has just handed him, and then stares at Derek.

"It's no big deal," Derek says, glancing away. "I saw it and thought of you, so I bought it."

Stiles breathes. "Okay," he says, and shoves it into his back pocket.

*

Sometimes, Stiles lets Derek fuck his face. He's not very good at it yet, but he likes it, and Derek always makes the best noises. He'll tangle his fingers in Stiles' hair and hold on like he'll fly apart if he doesn't, hips hitching as he tries not to choke Stiles. When he comes, he pulls out halfway through and empties the rest onto Stiles' nose and cheeks.

 

*

 _Third time's a pattern_ , Stiles thinks, jaw clenching as he stares at the brand new lacrosse stick Derek left on his bed.

He wants to throw it against the wall, but instead he turns around and storms right back out of his room, keys fisted in his palm.

*

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Derek looks confused as Stiles pushes past him into the apartment. "What?"

"The gifts!" Stiles yells.

"I wanted to." Derek shrugs, but he looks uncomfortable. "Why are you so upset?"

" _Because_. That's not how these arrangements work. You don't buy each other stuff unless you break a sex toy. End of story."

Derek's lips quirk. "We don't have any sex toys."

"Not the point," Stiles says between gritted teeth. "You need to stop."

Derek stares at him, expression carefully guarded. "Why?"

Stiles breathes. "Because I don't need another Lydia."

He leaves before Derek can say anything else.

*

Derek doesn't contact Stiles for two weeks.

Stiles refuses to cry.

*

The text comes at one in the morning.

 _I don't want to be another Lydia_ , it reads. _I want to be more._

*

Stiles knocks softly, and isn't surprised when Derek opens the door immediately. He looks exhausted and scared, and Stiles licks his lips, feels his stomach clench.

"I can't promise. But I want to try."

Derek swallows, nods. "Come to bed?"

Stiles follows him up, strips down to nothing and climbs in beside him. Derek pulls him close, presses his front to Stiles' back, and tangles their fingers together over Stiles' heart.

"Stop giving me things," Stiles mumbles, already drifting off.

Derek huffs against the back of his neck. "No."

*

In the morning, Stiles lets Derek fuck him slow, lets him press kisses to his jaw and roll his hips until they both come.

Stiles grins and makes them pancakes, and pretends not to notice when Derek wraps his arms around Stiles' waist and slips a key into his front pocket.

**20**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49029.html

"I'm just gonna go have sex with whom ever's in the men's room," Stiles yells, right into Scott's ear, but Scott isn't paying attention, giving Stiles a nod and a goofy smile. Then again, he does have Allison wrapped around him. 

The bathroom's quiet is a surprise; with the door shut behind him, Stiles can barely hear the throbbing bass. He heads straight for the sinks, ignoring the shadow of the guy at the urinals. 

He always forgets how clubs aren't conducive to layers. His t-shirt sticks to him in all the wrong places and there's absolutely _nothing_ sexy about upper lip sweat. His cool wet hands are a relief on his face and the back of his neck, even if he feels silly, patting himself down. "Why, I do declare," Stiles mutters, palming his throat.

"I could have you declared," says the body in the shadows. 

"You'd be doing me a favor."

There's the sound of a zipper, then the guy eases into view, his face revealed in small degrees by the dingy light above the sinks. "It'd be a favor for the rest of us, you mean." Derek's smirk isn't small; Stiles flips him the bird. 

"I'm integral to your success and you know it," Stiles says with a sniff. He studies Derek while Derek washes his hands: tight grey henley, leather jacket, nice jeans, and a pair of black Converse. "Got a hot date?"

"Bonding," Derek says. His face twists into a grimace, but it's there and gone in a blink.

"Here? How can you stand the--" Stiles makes a vague gesture at his head, then winces at Derek's frown.

"Erica wanted to go dancing."

Stiles chuckles. "I bet."

After a long, silent moment where neither one of them makes a move to leave, a raver comes busting through the door, his neon pink hair defying all laws of gravity. He startles at Derek and Stiles, then smirks and rolls his eyes. "Get a room, dudes."

Stiles snorts, but beside him, Derek fidgets. The two of them are closer than usual bathroom etiquette dictates, and if Stiles tipped forward a little, he'd be at the perfect kissing height. Derek would have to duck down, maybe. Steady Stiles with a hand on either side of his face, but...

"C'mon," Stiles murmurs, low enough for only Derek to hear, and tugs him into one of the stalls by his belt loop. 

Derek looks adorably befuddled as Stiles leans in to kiss him, pressing in close. Derek doesn't respond at first, but that's okay. Stiles is too busy getting his palms on Derek's body to care. Even though the henley, Derek is warm, solid. 

Riding the crest of his advantage, Stiles makes quick work of Derek's belt and jeans, until his cock springs free. "Commando? Nice."

"What are you doing?!" Derek hisses, eyes wide, hands clenching and unclenching on Stiles' hips. 

"Not making a liar out of myself," Stiles says, dropping to his knees, and sucks Derek down.

Stiles has done this a few times, mostly with Jake after lacrosse practice, but here works, too. The tile under his knees is familiar, as is the throb in his gut. Derek's uncut, though, thicker than Ian. The foreskin is soft, adding a whole new dimension Stiles wouldn't mind exploring in the future.

It doesn't take long for Stiles to find a rhythm, and then Stiles takes Derek's dick too far and tries to swallow around him. Derek chokes on the surprise, his grip skidding over Stiles' scalp, until he's coming down Stiles' throat in hot, thick spurts.

"Don't move," Stiles rasps, fumbling with his own jeans. His cock throbs in his hand and he has to rest his forehead against Derek's thigh as he jerks himself off. It only takes a dew seconds; he's even polite enough to clean up his come with a handful of toilet paper.

He rises to his feet with a minimum of wobbling. "That? Was awesome," he sing-songs.

Derek grabs him by the biceps, eyebrows drawn into a severe vee. "You are _insane_ ," he growls in the half second before his mouth is on Stiles'. This is kiss is darker, dirtier, like Derek's trying to chase down the taste of himself. Stiles sways when Derek pulls away, lungs burning. 

"But we're totally doing that again, right?" He can't hide his giddy grin.

"Fuck yes," Derek exhales, and drags him out of the bathroom.

**21**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48745.html

"I feel like I deserve a medal," Stiles said. "I am doing an excellent job of containing myself. I am the picture of restraint, the epitome of self-control."

Derek snorted.

"Dude. You're the one who wouldn't leave the witch alone."

Derek huffed and hopped onto their bed. He turned around once and flopped down, resting his head on his front paws. Because yeah. Paws were a thing now, at least for the next three days.

Stiles was _never_ going to let Derek forget this.

"I always wanted a dog," Stiles said as he moved around their bedroom, grabbing pajamas off the floor. It had been a looong night and he was exhausted, but he couldn't quite keep his attention off the giant wolf-- Jesus. _Derek_ \-- in their bed.

"This is gonna be awesome," Stiles said, sliding under the covers. He reached out and stroked over soft fur, and then laughed when the gesture garnered an eye roll that was so uncannily _Derek_ , that there was no mistaking who was in bed with him after all.

*

"This sucks."

It was 7 am. Stiles should still be _in bed_. Instead, he was standing outside their apartment, in threadbare pajamas, waiting on Derek to... He wasn't entirely sure what.

Derek kept walking in circles and sniffing the ground. He would freeze every few minutes though, and look back at Stiles, as if realizing Stiles was still there, before he repeated the entire process over again.

"Derek. Seriously?"

Derek made a whuffing noise that was awfully close to his normal "sighing-in-annoyance-at-Stiles" sound, gave him a long look, and finally slunk off behind a bush.

He growled warningly when Stiles tried to follow him.

"OH. Oooooh. Gotcha. Privacy. I can totally do privacy."

And then Stiles promptly lost ten minutes of his life that he would _never_ get back, when Mrs. Beasley walked up to him and made a point of handing him a bright pink poop bag. Which was probably barely large enough for the yippy Maltese that was currently trembling in her arms, much less...well, a wolf of Derek's size.

He made it work.

The subsequent lecture on responsible pet ownership-- no, she didn't care that Stiles was only pet sitting-- was a very definite low point in Stiles' life. And then she kicked him while he was down with an extremely judgy comment on his current state of dress, because _"how are you expecting to catch the eye of some nice young lady if you don't put any effort into it?"_

Just for the record. _Nothing says "I've got my life together" like an inside out shirt and a baggie full of dog shit._ Stiles texted Derek's phone a few minutes later. As an afterthought, he added, _we really need new neighbors._

*

Derek stood up slowly from his crouch. He was naked except for the studded collar Stiles had bought three days ago. It was still fastened securely around Derek's throat, glinting in the light of the full moon streaming through their bedroom window.

"Derek?"

Stiles gulped when Derek raised his head, eyes flashing red. Stiles squawked and stumbled when Derek stalked toward him, one hand wrenching the collar from around his neck.

"Oh fuck! Derek? Wait. If I did or said anything at any point over the last three days that..."

"Payback is a bitch," Derek growled, and then he was on Stiles, pushing him onto the bed. He dangled the collar in Stiles' face.

Stiles licked his lips and bared his throat in submission.

He could admit that he probably deserved whatever Derek did to him. The expedition to the park to play fetch yesterday? That had definitely been taking things too far. He knew that now.

Despite being human again, the growl that rumbled out of Derek was more animal than anything Stiles had heard from him as an actual wolf. Derek's hands were gentle though, as he clipped the collar around _Stiles'_ throat this time. "Gonna be a good boy for me?"

Stiles barked once in acknowledgement, and wiggled his ass.

"Fuck." And then Derek was slicing a claw through Stiles' clothes. He ripped them roughly away and tossed them on the floor. "You're going to feel so good when I mount you," Derek rasped, manipulating Stiles onto his hands and knees, and then Derek was settling behind him, wrapping one hand around Stiles' throat. He caressed the collar with a thumb, before coaxing Stiles to bend his neck back just a little more. "Good Bitch."

**22**

**Link to text chosen:** <http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-17317.html>

 

When he was teamed up with Chris Argent to hunt Beacon Hills' latest supernatural enemy, Isaac never expected he'd end up like this: in the middle of the forest, cheek pressed into blood-soaked earth, legs spread with a tongue in his ass.

It's been a year since Erica and Boyd ran off, reducing the Hale pack to three, and after working together to bring down the alpha pack, Derek, Scott and Chris have maintained an uneasy truce. So when a pack of barghests – monstrous, mythical canine beasts – began wreaking havoc on their town, they joined forces again in an effort to outsmart and overpower them.

Derek, unwilling to leave his uncle to his own devices, chose Peter to accompany him to the northeastern border of their territory. Needing to stay close to his mom and the Sheriff, Scott chose Allison and Stiles and claimed Beacon Hills proper.

"Guess that leaves you with me, kid," Chris says, clapping his hand on Isaac's shoulder.

Derek doesn't look happy but nods in agreement. "Let's get going. We don't have time to waste."

"Check in every 12 hours, no exceptions," Scott adds before they part ways.

Being paired up with Chris wouldn't be a problem except that Isaac has begun to see him in a different light over the past several months. Yes, his life's work is hunting werewolves, and his family has practically destroyed the Hale pack, in one way or another. But Isaac has witnessed Chris suffering the loss of his father, and no matter how evil Gerard was, he can relate to the pain.

He's also watched Chris with Allison, channeling his despair over losing his wife into helping his daughter come back from a place so dark no one really thought she could recover. It's this Chris Isaac thinks of late at night in the room of his foster parent's house, one hand in his boxers, the other shoved in his mouth to stifle his groan when he comes.

Isaac takes comfort in Chris' calm confidence, staying close when they're setting traps and tracking their prey. He leaps to Chris' defense without hesitation, cutting off a barghest's attack just moments before it rips into Chris with sharp claws and teeth.

When he's cornered by two giant snarling beasts after luring them out of their makeshift den, Isaac thinks of Chris' steely, clear eyes, not fear or the jagged gashes in his own flesh. They're trained on their targets when Chris steps out from his cover, levels his gun, and takes out one, then the next, with two clean shots.

Chris is on him as soon as the beasts hit the ground, checking his wounds, hands running over his rapidly-healing skin. Hearts racing, they stink of sweat and adrenaline. Before he can stop himself, Isaac surges forward, crashing their mouths together.

He expects Chris to stop him but the next thing he knows, they've fallen to the ground, tearing off their clothing, swallowing each other's moans. Stripped bare, Chris flips Isaac over, pulls his hips up and rubs his hard cock against his ass.

"Do you want this?"

"Yes," Isaac hisses, shifting back to meet Chris' thrusts. Moments later, Chris spreads him open and buries his face between his cheeks. Isaac shouts at the first touch of Chris' warm, wet tongue against his asshole.

Chris is brutal, not letting up for a minute. He gets Isaac soaking wet, works his tongue in as deep as he can, then slips his fingers in when he's able.

"Chris! I need–" Isaac chokes out.

"I'm not going to fuck you," Chris says, reaching between his legs, playing with the head of his cock. "I want you to come like this."

 

Chris' blunt teeth bite into his ass cheek and Isaac's gone, coming all over the ground. Covering Isaac's body with his own, Chris ruts against him, cock sliding easily through the wetness between his cheeks, until he loses control and comes in hot spurts on Isaac's ass, then collapses onto the forest floor.

Isaac wakes two hours later with Chris curled up around him, cock snug against his ass, both of them covered in leaves and mud. He fishes his phone out of his jeans and sees an all-clear message from Derek and another from Scott, asking them to check in.

All things considered, he can't reply with: _I have beard burns on my inner thighs, so I'd say last night went pretty well_. Instead, he types: _We got three. Be home soon_.

**23**

**Link to text chosen:** [This is the second time in a week I've woken up with your bra in my bed and I've had to sit and think about how it happened.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-33034.html)

It starts like this.

It’s Allison’s 21st birthday, which means it is her turn to get plastered. With people she trusts watching her back. That the definition of drinking responsibly.

She and Scott are permanently at the end of their on again-off again relationship, removing him from the list of possible drinking partners, along with most of the pack. 

Making this a-

“Girls’ Night!” Erica yells when Allison opens the door to her apartment. Erica is brandishing a large glass jug of what seems to be really terrible wine.

“Thought you had a rule about wine bottles with twist off caps?” Allison asks Lydia.

“Which I am perfectly willing to break in exchange for sangria,” Lydia says. “I also brought vodka, in case that doesn’t strike your fancy.”

Allison would break out her wine glasses, but frankly, she still doesn’t have wine glasses, so she pulls out three mugs instead, because frankly everything is better drunk out of mugs. 

Or so she says after her second mugful of sangria and that- wait was it one or two- vodka shots when Erica had crowed that needing a chaser was weak. Which is not fair because hello wolflihood. Wolf-wolvlihood? Eh, whatever. Although Erica seems to have found her own source of lowered inhibitions, probably somewhere in the empty bottles that had once made up Allison’s alcohol collection. Her head’s somehow cuddled up to Lydia’s knee, while Allison finds herself somehow lounging on the floor, hands behind her head. The floor is her friend. She laughs mostly to herself.

Then she’s struck with a brilliant idea. 1) She really needs someone to cuddle up to and look friends! Right there! and 2) They really need to go to a bar. Or someplace involving dancing. Which is actually two brilliant ideas.

So, Allison puts on dancing music and dragged Erica and Lydia to their feet. 

They’re flushed from dancing and laughing and alcohol when Allison leans down and kisses Erica. She blushed bright red, and it’s the best thing in the world. So, Allison kisses Lydia’s cheek as well. 

There’s a moment of silence, where they’re all wondering if this is really happening.

And it is. 

They become this bundle of hands and kisses and skin, stumbling their way to Allison’s bed. Allison’s pushes Lydia to lay on the bed, while Erica rests her head on Allison’s shoulder, chin digging into the meaty part.

“Are you sure?” Allison asks, playing with the hem of her shirt. “You want this and you’re not drunk and you’ll still be here tomorrow?”

Erica nods and starts biting her way down Allison’s neck, sweet, sucking kisses that leave Allison’s knees weak. “Best kind of birthday,” Lydia says, pulling Allison down to sigh into her mouth. “Of course I want this.”

Erica whispers in Allison’s ear, “We want this.”

Erica’s hands are smoothing their way down Allison’s sides to reach her hips and the heat of another body behind her leaves Allison shivering. Lydia kisses Allison once more, before licking across her lips with a satisfied smirk. Then Lydia and Erica are kissing, and Allison’s knees are weak, head coming back to loll against Erica’s shoulder. 

Lydia pushes her only far enough away for Lydia to pull her shirt off, and shimmy out of her skirt. Erica eases Allison’s top off, fingers fluttering against the skin of her breastbone. Then it’s all clasps and shaking hands and bra straps sliding down arms. 

Somehow Allison ends up straddling Lydia on the bed, Erica coming up behind her to cup Lydia’s breasts in her hands. It seems so natural to push Lydia to lie back, held up by Erica, and kiss and suck and lick her way down to the apex of Lydia’s legs. It’s simple enough to start of rhythm of licks, just missing her clitoris, teasing her gently, before plunging as deep as her tongue will go. A finger or two and broad swipes of Allison’s tongue and Lydia’s squirming and writhing, playing into Erica’s hands. With her other hand, Allison finds that perfect place with a finger and then two and then three, rutting to the sound of Lydia’s sweet moans. 

It’s perfect and easy and they curl up in a sticky pile of satiated limbs. It’s the start of something. 

Two weeks later, Allison gets a text from Erica:

This is the second time in a week I've woken up with your bra in my bed and I've had to sit and think about how it happened.

**24**

Link to text chosen:http://tfl.nu/4mcu

(815): I've noticed we have slowly begun to phase the "B" out of our Bromance.

 

Stiles had introduced Stiles Wednesdays after Allison and Scott broke up.

"I mean, we need some bro-time!" he'd said. "Some Scott+Stiles time. Not that all the werewolf stuff isn't great," he'd added hastily, "and I'm sure Isaac following you around is going to become the best thing ever, but I only have two handsets for Call Of Duty and I don't want to share."

Since then it had become the highlight of Scott's week. 

Full moon that week had been on a Wednesday so Scott headed over to Stiles's on Saturday morning about ten.

"He's not up yet," the Sheriff said when he answered the door.

"Am so," said a bleary voice behind him. Stiles stood at the top of the stairs in sleep pants and a baggy T-shirt. His hair was sticking up all over the place and he looked sleepy and confused. The Sheriff rolled his eyes.

"He's all yours," he said and disappeared back into his study, shutting the door firmly behind him.  
Scott grinned as Stiles made his way down the stairs.

"What time did you get to bed last night?" he asked as Stiles stumbled past him into the kitchen.

"Four, five maybe?" Stiles said, grabbing a carton of juice from the refrigerator and chugging half of it.

"You wanna watch a movie?" Scott asked.

"You're the best!" Stiles said, heading into the den. Scott grabbed a bottle of soda and followed him. Stiles was already slotting a disc into the player so Scott sat in his usual place on the couch and waited for Stiles to flop down next to him. He was a little disconcerted when Stiles sprawled flat out and rested his head on Scott's thigh as the movie began to play.

"Seriously, the best," he muttered and went out like a light. Scott pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over Stiles as best he could. Then he was left with the dilemma of what to do with his hands. The left one was easy, that could go on his thigh like normal, but Stiles had got his head right where Scott's hand should go. He tried leaning his arm along the back of the couch but it made his shoulder ache after a while, and when he shifted to try and ease it a bit, Stiles muttered a protest and brought his hand up so he was actually gripping Scott's thigh, holding it still. Scott froze, then gave up and rested his hand gently on Stiles's shoulder. Stiles stayed firmly asleep and Scott looked back at the movie. He'd seen it a million times before, and gradually his hand slipped up to play with Stiles's hair, carding his fingers through it and tracing gently over the curl of Stiles's ear.

He didn't notice when Stiles woke up, just gradually became aware that the slow and steady heartbeat of sleep had shifted into something quicker and altogether more alert. When Stiles realised he knew he was awake, he pushed himself up, still with his hand on Scott's thigh, causing Scott's hand to trail down his chest and end up resting over his quickened heartbeat.

"I've noticed we have slowly begun to phase the "B" out of our Bromance," Stiles said, with a slightly nervous smile. "That deliberate?"

Instead of answering, Scott leaned in and kissed him, flicking his tongue over Stiles's lower lip. Stiles opened up without hesitating. He tasted of the juice he'd drunk before the film started; he was sleep-warm and soft under Scott's hand and Scott gave in to the swell of arousal he'd been feeling since Stiles had put his head on his thigh. Stiles shifted to straddle him, grinding against Scott's cock as he fisted both hands in Scott's hair and turned the kiss deep and dirty. Scott slid his hand down Stiles's chest, feeling the muscles move under his hand as he moved to rub Stiles's cock through his sleep pants.

Stiles gasped and bucked up into Scott's hand, coming with a gasp and startling Scott's own orgasm out of him.

"I'd kind of thought that would last a bit longer," Stiles said breathlessly, resting his forehead against Scott's.

"You surprised me," Scott said. 

"Oh, you wait til next time," Stiles said, kissing the tip of Scott's nose. Scott moved to capture Stiles's mouth with his own.

"Don't make me wait long," he said.

**25**

**Link to text chosen:** [(813): you were crying and the really sympathetic homeless man offered you a sip of his whiskey. who was i to stop you?](%E2%80%9D)

 

When Stiles opens his eyes, he immediately closes them again when the pain registers. He rolls over with a groan and burrows himself further into the sheets. 

“There’s water and a painkiller on the side table,” said Peter. 

A hand appears from under the blankets swatting around for the glass before finding its target and disappearing underneath the sheets again. “Oh god, I only remember bits and pieces from last night,” said Stiles muffled by the blankets. 

“It was certainly interesting,” replied Peter as he dodges the pillow that was launched in his direction. 

Stiles pokes his head out from the sheets, “Fuck you, old man.”

*****

This was not happening. 

His super-sized homemade-go-go-juice, his Honey Boo Boo knowledge is all Peter’s fault, was supposed to help him power through another couple of pages of his thesis. He swears that his brain sent the signal to pick up the cup, not knock it all over his laptop. It’s like his limbs have a mind of their own.

There’s a towel soaking up the mess on the keyboard, but no matter how many times he’s pushed the power button, the laptop won’t power-on. 

Fuck. 

He pulls his hair and paces around the table before pulling out his phone to consult Google, the master of the universe. An hour later, his laptop is in pieces and there are screws missing, like they grew legs, and walked away from him. Stiles texts Peter asking if he’s finished with his business meeting. When he doesn’t get a reply, Stiles opens up the liquor cabinet and starts pouring the liquor to calm his nerves.

The laptop had the draft of his thesis made of his blood, sweat and manly tears. Sure, he could write it again, but he’ll never be able to get the wording the same. He’d be like those parents who’d buy their kid a new hamster after the old one died. It’s not the same.

****

The sun started to set and Peter still had not replied to his text so he started the wobbly trek to Peter’s office. Maybe they’d know where he is.

“Spare some pennies, sir?”

Stiles turned to the homeless man sitting on the ground. He pulled out his wallet and handed the guy a couple dollars.  
“What’s the matter, kid? Ya look like someone chick called it quits with ya.”

“It’s worse than that. It’s like the asteroid headed towards the Earth, only no one’s got a suit powerful enough to blow the thing to pieces,” says Stiles as he sat down on the ground next to the guy. 

“It can’t be that bad, lad.” 

“This is like six pouches of frozen daquiri later and still not enough, kind of bad,” replies Stiles. 

“Daquiri! A young lad like ya needs a manly drink, none of them girly stuff,” the homeless man proceeds to dig into his pockets where he pulls out a bottle of coke and offers Stiles a coffee cup. “Go on. Sip it. Don’t chug it like cough syrup!”

****

“Oh god, did I actually drink it? Why didn’t you stop me?”

“The really sympathetic homeless man offered you a sip of his whiskey. Who was I to stop you?” smirked Peter. 

“You bastard.”

Peter makes a noise of agreement, “One and only. Now, you can think about how to repay me when I tell you that I salvaged the data off your hard drive. I highly suggest something from the toy box, the nipple clamps perhaps.”

Stiles throws the blankets off himself and proceeds to pounce on Peter, “You fixed it!?” 

“Your thesis isn’t lost, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Oh god, I got up too fast. I’m going to hurl.”

“I swear, Stiles, if you throw up anywhere not in the toilet, I’m going to beat your ass a new shade of red _with_ the clamps on,” threatens Peter as he drags Stiles towards the bathroom. 

Stiles never made it all the way to the bathroom. 

**26**

**Link to text chosen:**  
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49046.html  
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-30575.html

 

“Danny!” Stiles yelled over the loud base rhythms in the club, arms waving, sloshing his drink everywhere.

Saving the drink from Stiles, Danny took a sniff before swallowing the rest and sat next to Stiles. 

“No more for you, Stiles. You can't have nice things when you’re this drunk. And vodka is a nice thing.”

“I'm not drunk, but trying to get there.”

“I don't think you should. Why are you sitting here, is the dark, instead of enjoying yourself out there with the rest?” Danny nodded to the dance floor, never taking his eyes off Stiles.

“Just don't feel like it tonight, having some...personal issues.” 

Stiles was working off some energy, drumming his fingers on the small table. For all his high strung hyper-ness, Stiles could fall into a funk with the best of them and Danny hoped whatever bugged him wouldn’t put him in a long depression. Sadly, Danny also noticed Scott clueless to his best friend's problems.

“Want to talk about it?” Danny asked.

Stiles eyed him while giving it some thought. “Okay, but Danny I not bringing it up because you're, you know, gay but -”

_Oh please, not be the sex talk._

“I think I am being taken advantage of...sexually”

_Oh shit._

“Stiles, if someone is hurting -”

“No, no,” Stiles waved with both hands, stopping Danny's train of thought. “Not like that. I mean every time I have been willing but, it's like I'm a dirty secret. I'm told to keep discreet. That he's not ready for people to know.”

Danny glared across the dance floor, trying to figure out which of their friends would treat Stiles like that.

“No Danny, not one of them. He's...on the team.”

Looking back at Stiles, going through the team roster in his head, one name stood out. 

“Evens.”

Stiles’s wide eyes was enough of an answer for Danny. 

“How did...he's done this before. Damn-it. I was trying to convince myself that maybe he was straight and just using me to get off.”

“Oh please, Evans will not just _come_ out of the closet. He will fall out, 69ing someone, with two fingers in his starving asshole, wearing cum splattered lady gaga sunglasses...weeping. Stiles, I know you're new to sexual relationships, but guys who are just trying to get their rock off aren't that good at...what's that look for?” If looks could kill, Danny was sure his head would have exploded. 

“I wouldn't know since I never got to...reap the rewards. You know what, I don't feel much like being out anymore, I'll catch you later,” Stiles stood to leave, but Danny pulled him back into the chair, before he could take a step.

“Stiles, he isn’t worth getting pissed off over. Evans is an ass.”

“No Danny, I thought…Look, I’m pissed at myself. I should’ve known. I am use to being the ugly duckling in a pack of GQ models.”

“Is that what you think of yourself?” 

“Look at them,” Stiles gestured to the group on the dance floor, “I don’t even rate on the same level as you guys.”

“You got it wrong Stiles, to everyone, you are at our level, and it can scare people. And I’m glad others aren’t sniffing around, spending time with you gives you a whole new level of sexy in my eyes.”

“Wait…what?” 

“I’m new the group, and didn’t want to challenge the dynamics of the pack.”

That got Stiles chuckling, “At the risk of sounding like Derek, they’re not wolves. Jackson might have an issue but, he’s an ass to me.”

“So, if I was to kiss you here, where the pack could see, I won’t find claws in my shoulder?”

“No guarantees about these deadly claws,” Stiles said lifting a hand, ‘clawing’ the air twice.

Danny leaned closer to Stiles, “I’ll take my chances.”

Apparently that was all the coaxing Stiles needed to close the gap with a searing vodka flavored kiss that Danny quickly got drunk from. A kiss that Danny only broke off when he felt Stiles hand tug on his belt.

“No Stiles, if anyone’s getting any tonight it’s you.”

“Oh really?” Stiles said smirking, “Is that a promise?” 

 

Watching Stiles eyes rollback, as he stroked his cock to completion, was one of the hottest things Danny ever did in a club. 

And later that night, when Stiles rode his cock in the back seat of the Jeep, Danny thought about sending Evans a Thank-You card.

After all, the ass brought Stiles closer to him. 

**27**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49138.html

If Stiles had to guess he would’ve thought that the whole “mate” thing would mean more exclusivity, jealousy, possessiveness. Definitely monogamy. But after it was official (yes, there was a truly embarrassing ceremony), Derek actually seemed _less_ possessive. There was still just as much rough, post-clusterfuck sex and growls of _mine, mine_ and the neverending hickeys. Stiles would’ve been seriously disappointed if those had gone away.

But one minute Stiles is caught staring just a few seconds too long at Erica stripping for the full moon, the next he’s shirtless with Erica straddling him while Derek looks on approvingly.

“And this is okay?” Stiles asks, trying to crane his head toward Derek while Erica’s got his lower lip clamped firmly between distressingly pointy teeth.

Derek smiles – small but genuine, and that more than anything else relieves Stiles’ anxiety. “Do you want her?”

Erica lets go of Stiles’ lip, and he splutters, “Well, yeah, but not, like, for good.”

Derek and Erica both laugh, and Stiles knows he’s missed something again. Fuckin’ _werewolves_.

Derek comes up behind Stiles and rubs broad palms down his arms. “This is just for fun,” he whispers.

“I’m _so_ glad we both made out with him, though,” Erica snarks at Stiles. “I feel like that really brought us together.”

“Both made—What? _When_?”

“Forever ago,” Erica snorts. “Soon after he turned me. It lasted, like, five seconds, though I did get some tongue action.”

Stiles whips his head around to Derek, who just shrugs. “Mistakes were made.”

That is not beyond the realm of belief.

After that, Stiles loses track of time and just experiences a cascade of sensations instead: Erica rubbing against him; Derek’s fingers working him open; the roll of a condom; Derek’s first thrust making Stiles sink into Erica.

They’re lying on their sides on the bed so there’s not a lot of room for movement, but Stiles has Derek rocking deep into him from behind, his open mouth pressed to the back of Stiles’ neck, while Erica has one leg thrown over Stiles’ hip and is grinding against him. Stiles brings one hand up to cup her face and worms the other one down between their bodies to press his thumb against her clit.

She cries out and rocks down harder, pushing Stiles back against Derek and they both moan. “Get her off,” Derek growls low in Stiles’ ear. “Make her come and you’ll get more.”

Stiles can’t imagine being able to take more of _anything_ , but he focuses on Erica, finding the right rhythm with his thumb while she pants and works herself on his cock. It doesn’t take long before Erica’s coming, squeezing so tight around Stiles that it’s only the blunt pain of Derek’s teeth sinking into his shoulder that keeps Stiles from losing it.

As soon as Erica stops shaking, she and Derek roll simultaneously so that Erica’s on her back, Stiles still inside her, and Derek’s on top of them both. Erica nods once and Derek thrusts so deep that Stiles sees stars.

Each hard thrust shoves Stiles into Erica, but she doesn’t seem to mind as long as Stiles doesn’t grind against her oversensitive clit. It’s _so_ far past too much, Derek’s thick length splitting him open and pushing him over and over again into Erica’s wet heat, that Stiles has to bury his head against Erica’s neck and just try to hold on.

Erica recovers fast, and soon she’s moving her hips in counterpoint to Derek’s thrusts, and pressed between them, Stiles feels every nerve in his body light up. He’s so close, teetering right on the knife edge when Derek changes the angle. The pleasure shoots straight through Stiles so hard his toes curl and Erica clenches around him, drawing it out until he’s sure he’ll die from it.

Time slips away from him again, and he’s vaguely aware of Derek coming with a deep growl, then two pairs of hands moving his limp body. There’s a moment when all the warmth surrounding him pulls away and he whimpers until they’re back around him, reversed this time: Derek against his front and Erica pressed to his back.

“Mine,” Derek whispers, pulling Stiles against his chest. Erica hums in agreement, rubbing Stiles’ sides but not going anywhere near the bites and bruises Derek left around his neck and shoulders. Stiles reaches back to hold Erica’s hand, and he thinks he gets it now. Derek doesn’t need to be possessive; Stiles is already his, for good.

**28**

**Link to text chosen:** <http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49058.html>

Stiles has jerked off to fantasies of Derek Hale an embarrassing number of times, so when Derek appears on the edge of the lacrosse field wearing a leather jacket and a broody frown, Stiles's ability to catch the ball evaporates. The ridiculous local legend that Derek's a werewolf is the only way to explain this level of savage virility.

"God, let's run into the wild and just eat berries and have sex all the time," Stiles murmurs.

Derek stares, an ear raised like he'd heard something.

Nah.

*

Stiles is woken by a howl. Adrenaline-frenzied, he nearly trips on the blanket in his haste to get to the window. 

_Let's run into the wild..._

No.

Nope.

_...and eat berries..._

When the wolf on the ground below howls again at him in recognition, Stiles just _knows_ , and he runs downstairs wearing only a t-shirt and underwear. 

He opens the front door to the wolf stalking up the porch with a determined grace and a gleam in its eye that's eerily human. The summer air is warm on his bare legs as he steps out onto the paint-peeled wood, and the wolf licks his fingers and cajoles its way between his thighs until Stiles is mounted on its back. It's instinct to weave his fingers into the glossy black fur, and when he's got a firm grip the wolf takes off into the night, running through empty roads until they've abandoned the town. 

Stiles catches the musty scent of the wolf's body when he ducks to avoid a branch as he's carried into the woods. The forest is thick with a darkness he never glimpses from his house, the moonlight transforming the trees into silent pantomimes. 

The wolf unloads him onto a flannel blanket in a clearing and lies down beside him. There's a bowl of berries and Stiles eats one, savoring the burst of sweetness in his mouth. He rests his head on a cushion and the wolf licks the sticky juice from his hand. Stiles sleeps.

*  
It's still night when he wakes. The wolf is gone. 

Instead, Derek lies next to him, his body unclothed and covered with soft black hair. Derek feeds him berries until his eyes go dark, and then he tugs Stiles's lips open and kisses him. 

"Have you lain with a man before?"

Stiles considers lying to Derek and blushes. "No."

Derek thumbs Stiles's chin up, exposing his throat. Stiles doesn't dare breathe as Derek's lips, careful and deliberate, drift along his neck.

"And me?" Derek runs a hand down Stiles's belly, pausing when he reaches the elastic of his underwear. "Will you open your body for me?"

Stiles's dick hardens painfully. He tries to nod _yes_ , but with Derek's thumb pressing his chin up, he manages only the barest movement. 

But Derek catches it. He drives his tongue deep between Stiles's lips while he pulls off Stiles's underwear and slides between his loosened thighs. Above them the interlocking branches of the trees tangle into strange patterns. Derek's body covers his so entirely that he must look like nothing more than an assembly of pale limbs wrapped around a great bulk.

He tightens when Derek touches the cleft of his ass, but Derek is patient, tracing insistent circles around his rim. His finger has been slicked and as the press deepens Stiles finds himself rutting against Derek, begging softly. Derek kisses and pets him and works him open until Stiles's head goes muddy and he discovers he's babbling, but Derek just sucks the words off his lips and smiles.

"Been watching you for so long. When you said you wanted me to bring you here, to do this," Derek shifts his weight and spreads Stiles's legs wider, then presses the head of his prick against his hole, "I nearly went crazy."

It's only by biting Derek's arm that Stiles can silence his shout. 

"Shh," Derek shushes him, burying his face in Stiles's neck. "Shh."

It turns good enough that Stiles jerks his hips, wanting. Derek smiles against his mouth, grabs his ass and forces his hips up at a new angle. He hits Stiles in just the right place, then grows relentless, fucking into him with a measured brutality. They come in unison: Derek's fingers gripping tight enough to leave bruises, Stiles nipping at lips that gasp tender obscenities.

When the last of their orgasms leave them boneless, Derek rolls Stiles onto his chest and grins. 

"Come, and run away with me into the wild."

**29**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-40425.html

Stiles arches onto Derek’s cock, gasping at the stretch of him. He’s been waiting for this to happen for days, wearing down Derek’s ridiculous hang-ups and issues until Derek got so frustrated he’s now fucking Stiles on the living room couch. It’s fucking awesome.

“Ugh!” Stiles hears Allison say and the door slams shut again. Derek stops thrusting and Stiles glares at him.

“Don’t you dare stop now,” he pants, grinning when Derek thrusts once more, just right. “Fuck, that’s good,” Stiles groans.

“You are steam-cleaning that couch Stiles!” Isaac shouts through the door. “And I expected better of you, Derek!”

Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles ends up laughing as he comes, hiccuping a little. Derek shudders and pushes in deep one last time, grunting and gasping as he comes. He manages to pull out and lower himself to lie on Stiles’ chest. Stiles’ hand comes up to pet at Derek’s hair, compulsively twirling the strands between his fingers. 

“Fuck, okay,” Stiles pants. “Up, off. You’re heavy.”

Derek groans as he levers himself up and off. Stiles sits up, closing his eyes as the blood rushes to his head again. 

When they’re dressed they leave the living room and head into the kitchen, where the two packs are waiting for them. Allison is still looking pretty traumatised, Scott is patting her hand comfortingly. 

“Dude, put a sign up or something.”

“Because the noises weren’t giving it away?” Derek asked, frowning at Isaac. 

“Besides, don’t act like you’ve never seen me naked before,” Stiles says, leering at Isaac.

“Not the point,” Isaac grumbles. Stiles walks over to him and gropes him, until Isaac is smirking and kissing Stiles. 

“Doesn’t his sluttishness bother you?” Allison asks Derek.

“No,” Derek says, shaking his head.

“I’ll have you know that I am the slutty bisexual glue that holds the packs together. You’d be lost and also horny without me,” Stiles replies, grinning. 

“We’re so grateful for the service you provide,” Allison says, shaking her head.

“I am selfless. Also, I did offer you two first refusal, and it’s a standing offer should you ever decide-”

“No, no, you know what? I think we’re good,” Allison says. She turns to Scott. “You seem surprisingly ok with this. How are you ok with this?”

Scott goes bright red and mumbles something.

“No!” Allison gasps. 

“It was while we were broken up, I was lonely and horny and Stiles was there and-”

“It’s ok, sweetie, I just don’t need to hear the details,” Allison says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“But it means I’ll be ok with a threesome, if you wanted?” Scott offers. Allison shakes her head again, but she’s smiling. Scott kisses her, pulling her close.

“You know, I’d like to hear the details,” Erica says as she walks in, sitting on Derek’s lap. “I’ll also take you up on that offer, Stiles, if it’s still open.”

“Obviously. Give me about 15, just had a go.” 

Erica pouts.

“Blame your alpha, he wore me out.” 

Erica turned her pout on Derek who just smirked and squeezed her. 

“I’m sure Stiles will be worth the wait,” says Derek.

“You know I am,” Stiles replies. “Hey, Isaac, you could join us, if you wanted, right Erica?”

Erica nodded eagerly, and Stiles didn’t want to call the look _wolfish_ for obvious reasons but the analogy was an apt one. 

Isaac stood up and grabbed Erica’s hand.

“I don’t need fifteen minutes, though,” Isaac pointed out. Erica squealed delightedly as Isaac picked her up and headed to the bedroom. 

“Hey!” Stiles shouted. He got up and followed them, “I don’t want sloppy seconds.” 

“Then get up here, then, maybe put that mouth of yours to some use!” Erica shouted. 

“Sorry guys,” Stiles said. “Duty calls.”

Allison turned to Scott. “I think we should go.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, faintly. Derek just laughed.

**30**

**Link to text chosen:** [Link](http://bit.ly/Znyz46)

"Stiles!" Derek growled from where he was brooding by Stiles's dresser. "Can't you do this faster?"

"Oh, _faster_?" Stiles clutched his chest and gaped at Derek. "What a concept! It never would have occurred to me that the solution to all my problems was to just speed up." He glared and returned to the computer. "No, _Derek_ , I can't do it any faster. Though maybe you could spend this time contemplating how your constant interruptions might be affecting my productivity."

Derek stalked forward and leaned in, watching the screen over Stiles's shoulder. Stiles swiveled around and elbowed him in the ribs. "Breathing in my ear isn't helping, either."

Derek sent him a dour look. "This is taking forever."

"Yeah, well, the internet is a big place."

"You could go faster," Derek said after watching him type for a few minutes. "If you were properly motivated."

"No," Stiles said. "No. You are flat-out wrong. I've got your wolf breath down my neck and bed calling my name and school in the morning and an essay to finish at some point between now and then and an English quiz tomorrow and I couldn't possibly be more motivated right now, okay? The only way I could possibly go faster is if you'd stop interrupting me for five minutes."

Derek's mouth curved into a lopsided smile that made Stiles shiver. Sometimes, that smile meant very good things -- and sometimes, its meaning was very, very bad. "I could make you work faster."

Stiles's mouth went dry, but he rolled his eyes and pushed at Derek's shoulder. "Listen to my heart. Tell me if I'm lying. Getting all scary-threatening isn't going to get you what you want any faster. In fact, there's a good chance you won't get it at all. I'm petty that way."

Derek's smile just spread, showing teeth. "It's not a threat."

Stiles expected him to follow up with that tired old cliche, _It's a promise._ He was already rolling his eyes, formulating a witty retort to have at the ready. But Derek didn't say anything else, and Stiles was definitely not expecting him to get down onto his knees, push his way past Stiles's legs, and wedge himself into the space under the desk.

"Uh." Stiles stared at him, just a shadowed smudge of hair and pale skin between Stiles's knees. "If you're planning on doing what I think you're doing--"

Derek pulled his chair in so he was sitting flush at the desk. He couldn't see anything going on down there anymore, but there was no missing the way Derek's hands went straight for his fly.

"--Which, okay, apparently yes, you are, and much as it pains me to say this, because the last thing I want right now is for you to stop, I feel it only fair to point out that blowing me is not exactly going to help my levels of concentration."

"Yes it will." Derek's voice was muffled from beneath the desk. Or maybe because he was pulling Stiles's cock out and rubbing his lips up and down it.

"Jesus _Christ_."

Derek dragged his tongue in a long stripe up Stiles's shaft. "No, I really don't think--"

"It will work," Derek said, "because if you stop, so do I."

Stiles stared down at the surface of the desk, in the general location that he thought Derek was. His breath still ghosted across Stiles's skin and his fingers circled the base, but that was it.

Slowly, tentatively, Stiles slid the keyboard back in front of him and started typing a search query. As soon as the keys started clacking, Derek closed his mouth around Stiles's cock and swallowed him down.

"Oh my God," Stiles gasped. "Oh my God. You're going to kill me."

Derek just laughed around him and sucked him deeper.

~  
From: Scott  
 _Hv u figurd ot a thesis 4 yr eng ppr yet?_

From: Stiles  
 _Turned it in last week._

From: Scott  
 _WAT? Howd u gt done so erly?!?!_

From: Stiles  
 _The lack of pants and amount of productivity in my life right now is amazing._

From: Scott  
 _Dats nt an answr_

From: Stiles  
 _Yes it is  
g2g working on chem report_

Stiles threw the phone onto his bed, grabbed Derek by the hair, and pulled him back between his legs, laughing, "Okay, okay, I'm done, now back to work. This report isn't going to write itself, you know."

**31**

**Link to text chosen:** [here](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48947.html)

The thing was Allison is obsessed. The flash of a fist coming at her face, that animal pull in her gut that made her drop, shoulder dipping so she could slam into the other girl. 

“You look nice today.” John said giving her a once-over that was neither welcome nor subtle. Allison gave him a bland smile. 

She had taken over the family business because she was an only child and it was expected. John was a snivelling little worm of a man who always thought that she could be manipulated because she had a vagina. One day she was going to cut his hand off and wear it like a glove. 

Real passion was that clearing, ringed by ancient trees and often half hidden in the shadows of an dilapidated house. Someone had dragged out some flood lights so that they were thrown into stark light and shadow while they fought. Allison had been introduced by Lydia, a petite ginger with perfect hair and make-up, heels clicking, a lawyer of some sort. 

Allison could vividly remember Lydia’s knee connecting with her stomach driving all the breath from her in a rush that left her feeling sick. Lydia’s smile had been predatory, one small hand snarled in Allison’s hair pulling her face up until her neck and scalp screamed at the maltreatment. “Do you give?” 

Allison had gotten better since then. Learned just how dirty she could fight. Learned quickly that no one would thank her for pulling her punches. 

“Thank you John.” 

Days like today, where it felt like there was nitro-glycerine in her veins she would ditch work and drive out to the house. In a different universe she had been meant for so much more.

Today she wasn’t alone. Erica stood here staring up at the cloudless sky, a fall of blonde hair shining like a halo around her pale face. They never talked about personal lives, Allison knew Lydia, but didn’t know Erica until her breaks had been squeaking and recognized the high-school drop-out working secretary for the garage. 

“Wanna fight?” Erica asked her as Allison slammed the door to her SUV (the breaks worked fine now), she was looking up through the heavy make-up that made her look like she was still a trashy teen-aged punk.

Allison never fought in her work clothes. Low heels kicked off and rocks tearing her socks. Erica had let her rings and earrings drop to the ground before lunging. She took a hard hit to the ribs that sent pain shooting up her side. Allison twisted and brought her knee up, hitting Erica square in the thigh. That knocked her off her balance and Allison lunged, throwing her over her shoulder. 

Allison was on top of her in a moment. 

“Give.” She snarled. 

Erica twisted into the hold, forcing her wrist until Allison could feel the strain on the joint. They kissed hard and messy. This was new, exciting. 

Allison let her body land on Erica’s. She grunted into the kiss when hands twisted in her hair, tugging. They rut together messily, thighs shoved between each other’s legs, heat of Erica’s cunt barely there through the cotton of Allison’s work pants and Erica’s leggings. Erica surged up and pulled Allison’s sensible sweater up and over her head. 

It was a race to get undressed and neither of them were being gentle about it, she snagged a hand in Erica’s top and stretched it in her haste to get it off. 

Erica slipped fingers inside her, Allison bit down on the inside curve of her breast. White hot sensation lighting her up from the inside out. The angle made her wrist ache but she got two fingers on Erica’s clit rubbing harshly so that the other woman choked on a curse. This too was a fight and Allison thrilled in savagery of it as much as the victory.

Erica clenched around her soaking herself as she came. Allison’s own orgasm was like a bolt from the blue, hitting her in all the right spots and leaving her panting. 

Allison regarded Erica’s lazy grin completely naked and splayed out on the ground. She could feel bruises forming on her body. She felt powerful. She felt alive. _This_ was where she wanted to be. “First sunburned tits and it’s only April, it’s going to be one hell of a summer.” Erica said, sleazy and cheap. Allison figured she couldn’t judge while the woman’s hands still smelled like sex so she shrugged awkwardly.

 

**32**

**Link to text chosen:** [(815): I've noticed we have slowly begun to phase the "B" out of our Bromance.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48993.html)

 

Scott's first clue really should've been when Stiles points it out.

Stiles slams his locker shut. "Will you just go talk to him already?"

"Who?" 

Stiles flaps his hand towards the end of the hall where Isaac is hanging out with Boyd.

"You and I have plans today," Scott says firmly. It's been this _thing_ between them lately, and Scott doesn't want there to be any more hurt feelings if he takes off with Isaac again.

"The bright light from the hearts in your eyes is giving me a wicked headache." Stiles rubs his temple. "Maybe it'll tone down if you go hug it out or something. This new bromance shouldn't be causing me actual physical pain."

"You're my bromance," Scott says immediately. Stiles snorts but knocks his shoulder against Scott's.

Down the hall, a small grin plays at the corner of Isaac's mouth, even as he focuses on what Boyd's saying. It's like a sudden punch to Scott's gut, and all he wants is to go kiss it bigger. 

"Oh my god," Stiles says grumpily, tugging Scott's arm so he'll follow.

Much later, when they're alone, Isaac smiles a lot wider. So does Scott.

 

**

 

The second clue is when Derek shows up at Scott's door, his shirt a bloody mess.

"Peter's taking Isaac to Deaton's."

Scott is out of the house and into the Camaro in an instant.

Derek won't say much, other than it was an alpha from the pack. They got away, though Isaac has a couple deep scratches. Derek insists he's going to be fine.

"Then why are you worrying me like this?" Scott exclaims indignantly.

Derek merely huffs as he pulls into the parking lot, not responding further.

Isaac is being patched up. He's clearly in pain but smiles bravely when Scott walks in and hurries over.

Scott's entire body floods with relief when he sees, can sense, Isaac'll be okay. His heart thumps faster when Isaac grabs his hand to give it a quick squeeze.

Derek hangs back and rolls his eyes.

 

**

 

The third clue comes from Isaac himself.

After a lacrosse practice they're the only ones left in the locker room. Coach had took them aside to yell about them being a couple of jokers who keep distracting each other on the field.

"Wanna go to a movie tonight?" Isaac asks, pulling on a clean shirt.

"Sure," Scott replies, buttoning his jeans. He laughs when he thinks about what Stiles would say. "Is this another step in our epic bromance?"

Isaac moves closer into Scott's space; it's like all the air is suddenly sucked out of the room, leaving Scott feeling dizzy. 

"Well," Isaac drawls slowly, "I've noticed we've been phasing the 'b' out of our bromance, don't you think?"

Scott answers by grabbing Isaac and pulling him closer, crushing a kiss to his mouth.

They don't make it to a movie that night.

**

The final clue is from Scott's own body right in the middle of a fantastic fuck.

Scott loves sex with Isaac -- matching werewolf stamina is freaking awesome. Isaac's strong, curious, and wants to push limits. He'll go for _harder_ , _faster_ , as long as Scott's willing. Which Scott totally is, always.

It's different tonight; it's still fun, but it's _more_. Isaac is on all fours on Scott's bed with Scott draped over him, thrusting in from behind. Scott's balls slap against Isaac's ass, and Scott's groaning about how incredible Isaac is, when the base of his dick starts to swell.

Scott is shocked to stillness. "I--I'm--"

"Fuck _yes_." Isaac moans, clenching around Scott's cock, then pushes back onto Scott's thick knot.

"Oh my god." Scott breathes shakily, dropping his forehead to Isaac's shoulder. He digs blunt nails into Isaac's hips, rutting against him while Isaac rocks back. Neither are able to move much more, but Scott rides on the euphoria of knowing Isaac made this happen, wants it. Wants _him_. 

They're a gasping, trembling mess after Scott comes a second time, his knot still holding them together.

Isaac's arms collapse, chest falling to the mattress. He laughs into the covers. "You know this means we're way past bromance, right?"

"I know." Scott shifts so they can stretch their legs out. He kisses the back of Isaac's neck. It's a strange but wonderful thing to realise, and he can't hold back. "Think this is more than just a little romance too."

Isaac turns his head to accept a sloppy kiss. "Glad you caught on, McCall."

**33**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-18088.html

Danny should've never said yes in the first place. It was a terrible idea. He should've never listened to Lydia. Just because she no longer considered Stiles dirt beneath her heels didn't mean she was without guile when she suggested he stop looking for boyfriends at Jungle and instead direct his attention a little closer to home. She'd just wanted to foster Stiles on him. And he fell for it and went out with Stiles once, and then again because the date hadn't actually been a disaster, and again because he'd had fun, and again because... he simply wanted to. And now here he was at the edge of the preserve, his butt parked on the hood of the Jeep, with Stiles running his mouth and making grabby hands at the bottle of Jack parked between them.

Danny grimaced."You just compared your dick to a Twizzler. In no way, shape, or form is that a turn on." 

"Aw, Danny, Danny-boy, Dan my man -"

"Stop calling me that."

Stiles grinned up at Danny from where he was half-draped over the hood of the jeep. "Stop fronting, you know you want this."

"You're horrible."

Stiles' shit-eating grin stretched so wide he ended up looking like a demented hedgehog. "I know," he preened, as if it was the greatest achievement of his life yet. It probably was in his head. Stiles nudged Danny's knee. "You still gonna let me suck you, right?"

And the terrible thing was that Danny was going to do just that, he's going to let Stiles put his mouth on him and slobber all over his dick because once Stiles got over his initial eager puppy reaction to being allowed to touch he was going to do his best to fry Danny's brain. He was a quick learner and thorough in his pursuit of knowledge. Danny took the bottle from Stiles' unresisting hands and dumped it on the ground where it landed with a dull thud." Come here."

Stiles scrambled upright and pushed Danny where he wanted him, sitting on the hood with his legs dangling so Stiles could push in between them - and have room to work, quote. "Just lean back and enjoy the ride."

Stiles fingers went for his fly without hesitation and Danny let his eyes fall shut and let Stiles take over. There was too much slobber at first, like Danny expected, but then Stiles found his rhythm and things got good, really really good. Stiles had this thing he liked to do, he loved holding just the head of Danny's dick in his mouth and then sliding his tongue against it, just this wet, achingly slow tease of touch, over and over and over. It made Danny twist and arch and curse under his breath and he could feel Stiles' smug little grin against his dick as he pulled off. 

"You okay there?" Stiles teased, mouth spit slick and shining. "Feel free to give pointers." 

Danny groaned, pushing his hands in Stiles' hair, palms cradling his head, and urged him upright. "Jesus, come up here," Danny coaxed until Stiles pushed himself up on his hands and crowded in close. Stiles' mouth was wet and soft and Danny pushed in deep, tilting Stiles' head so he could slide their lips together perfectly, warm and so sweet. Stiles' was eager in this too, making pleased little noises into Danny's mouth and trying to crawl into Danny's lap just to get closer.

Maybe Danny did owe Lydia a thank you instead, something expensive.

**34**

**Link to text chosen:** [This one.](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48995.html)

Danny laughs as he’s pushed into the hall closet. Isaac catches a glimpse of his warm brown eyes and infectious smile before the door shuts and engulfs them in darkness. He steps forward with his hands outstretched until he feels Danny’s soft cotton shirt under his fingertips. They slide down to thumb open the button of Danny’s jeans.

“Really?” Danny says softly. “The entire pack is in the backyard. Someone is going to hear us.”

“So?”

Isaac falls to his knees, pulling Danny’s pants down around his thighs. With light touches and kitten licks, he teases Danny to hardness. He doesn’t stop until he feels Danny’s hand in his hair, silently asking for more. Isaac smiles to himself and sits back on his heels.

“Someone might hear us,” He says innocently into the darkness.

Danny growls. “Isaac.”

His hand tightens in Isaac’s hair and Danny pulls him forward again. His cock bumps against Isaac’s lips and Isaac laughs softly before obediently sucking him down. Above him, Danny groans and thrusts deeper. He allows it, hands grasping at Danny’s hips tightly, already losing himself to the taste and feel of the cock in his mouth.

Danny sets a pace, guiding Isaac’s movements, and Isaac follows it, eager to give his mate what he wants, what they both want. Doing this, giving this to Danny does it for Isaac like nothing else. He loves that he’s the one to make Danny lose control, to make him greedy in a way that he never is over anything else. It makes heat pool low in his belly, makes his cock ache with the need to be touched just thinking about.

When he knows Danny is getting close Isaac pulls back, moving one of his hands away from Danny’s waist to jack him quick and rough as he suckled the head. Danny’s groans get breathier, louder, his hand tightening to the point of pain in Isaac’s hair.

He cums with a loud moan, hips stuttering forward of their own volition, pressing himself deeper into Isaac’s mouth. Isaac whimpers and lets his other hand fall away to palm at his own cock as he swallows his mate’s release.

*

It’s still another half-hour before they finally make their way back outside to join the rest of the pack for their barbecue and when they do, nobody seems impressed with them. Isaac ignores the judgmental looks and goes to fix a plate.

His phone vibrates halfway down the line.

**From _Erica_**  
 _You slut._

Isaac looks up, scanning the group of people until he finds her sitting at a table near the line of trees with Boyd at her side. When she sees him looking, she smirks and waggles a finger at him. _Naughty_ , she mouths at him but she looks too amused for the admonishment to hold any weight.

Danny’s hand presses against the small of his back, urging him further down the line. Isaac steps forward, looking back down at his phone to quickly type out a response. 

It’s easy to tell when she reads it because her laughter is loud enough to draw everyone's attention.

**To _Erica_**  
 _Don't act like you're not jealous that I disappeared into the closet to blow my mate. Werewolf marriage = all the cock I want._

 

**35**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-29922.html

Stiles glances at the text from Erica and frowns.

The rest of the pack had blown him off for _The Avengers_ Re-Watch and Dress-Up event with excuses of work or other commitments but Stiles had been counting on Erica at least to show up in her sweet Black Widow costume to complement the awesome Iron Man suit t-shirt Stiles had donned for the occasion. 

And now Erica couldn’t make it. 

Stiles buys extra-buttered popcorn and a large Mountain Dew to console himself. He gives the attendant (who flicks an appreciative nod at his t-shirt) his ticket then files into the theatre, taking a seat in the back row so he can check out his fellow costumed geeks. He spots an impressive-looking Hulk and a few Iron Mans as well as a couple of Black Widows, (none with cleavage as impressive as Erica who will now be sorry she missed out on that account).

He is alone in the back row when the movie starts. About five minutes in, though, Stiles notices Captain America slipping into a seat at the end of his row.

He stares. He can’t help it. Because...wow. 

It’s dark and Stiles can’t see much but he can see the way the guy fills out the spandex-lycra costume – broad shoulders, chiselled chest. Well-groomed scruff shows where the mask doesn’t cover which sort of reminds Stiles of a certain sour wolf but he quickly shakes that thought off and enjoys the view.

He pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and taps out a text to Erica: _There is a guy dressed as Captain America in the theatre. I want to make out with him even though I have no idea what he looks like. Wish me luck, I’m going in._

Grabbing his drink and snack, he hops two seats over. 

“Popcorn?” Stiles offers, tilting the bag toward the superhero.

America gives him a look and Stiles is sure there’s a raised eyebrow behind the part of the mask that covers the guy’s forehead. He can’t tell what color the guy’s eyes are in this light but he thinks they’re maybe a blue-green or hazel. Hmph. 

They sit watching the movie, munching on Stiles’ buttered popcorn. Another twenty minutes into the film, Stiles suddenly feels a hand at his crotch, the heel of a palm gently kneading into his groin. 

Well, fuck. 

It’s not long before fingers deftly pull down his zipper and pull out his not surprisingly stiffening-on-the-way-to-becoming-very-hard cock. The fingers stroke his length gently at first, thumb teasing over his cockhead, smearing the pre-come there. A warm and butter-greasy palm then wraps around his shaft and begins jerking him. The strokes are measured at first, testing limits, then become more eager and determined as though the guy wants to see how quickly he can get Stiles off.

Stiles is sure a new world record is set because he feels the pinpricks of orgasm building after what seems like only seconds. He is vaguely aware of some action happening on-screen and a vibration in his pocket as his hips jerk then still and he shoots hot and sticky. 

America wipes his hand off on Stiles’ shirt. He tears a piece off the popcorn bag Stiles is clutching in post-orgasm bliss, writes something on it (and, really, where does one carry a freakin’ pen while wearing skin-tight lycra?) and shoves it at Stiles before getting up and leaving the theatre. (Stiles feels validated when he sees there’s no hiding a _boner_ in that costume.)

Stiles uses his phone to light up the scrap of paper: _Meet me. Bathroom._

He chucks the popcorn to the floor, sparing a moment’s guilty thought to whoever stumbles on that little gem later, seeing how his jizz now coats the whole of one side of the bag (yeah, _eww_ ) before tucking himself in, zipping up and following.

On route to the follow-up hook-up, he remembers his phone vibrating and pulls up the text message from Erica:

_u know that costume-clad CA is derek, right?_

Stile stares at the text for a full minute before pocketing his phone and racing toward the bathroom. 

Because there’s a sexy sour wolf in spandex-lycra waiting for him there. And Stiles plans on peeling off those blue tights and giving Captain Werewolf America a blow job that would put Iron Man’s superpowers to utter freakin’ shame.

**36**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49011.html

 

Okay, so fine. In hindsight, Stiles can appreciate why this may not be the best plan he’s ever devised. Sue him. But sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.

Considering his current state of mind, Stiles thinks he did pretty well, all things considered. He managed to get out of the hospital just fine, ‘cause he’s stealthy and shit, no matter how many times Derek likes to claim otherwise. He just...failed to work out how he was going to get to the preserve _after_ that. Minor details.

Except Stiles can’t really walk all that well (he thinks those pain meds are finally kicking in because his thinking’s getting fuzzy), and he’s stumbling down the street like he’s completely wasted. Which is fairly accurate, actually. There’s a bus shack a few yards away, but letting go of the building he’s been leaning against is apparently a poor plan, and Stiles falls to the ground in a graceless heap before he’s even taken a step.

Fuck. He’s like a sitting duck. Or, well, a face-planted duck. Whatever.

He really should’ve thought this through better.

With a groan, Stiles manages to at least roll over onto his back before passing out.

***

When Stiles wakes, it’s to a pillow under his face and a blanket across his shoulders. Everything hurts. It takes several moments to realize that he’s home, lying on his living room couch, not back in the hospital. Huh.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a chance to appreciate it.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” a voice says from nearby. Derek. Of course.

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?”

It’s probably rhetoric. Doesn’t mean it’s gonna stop him from responding though. “You guys were up against some crazy-ass sidhe. I couldn’t just leave you alone out there.”

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to say. Thankfully, Stiles falls asleep halfway through Derek’s rant, saving him the headache. For now.

***

Unsurprisingly, when his dad finds out what happened, Stiles gets grounded for a month. But he doesn’t make Stiles go back to the hospital, so at least there’s that.

***

He and Derek argue three separate times about the incident before finally declaring it a dead topic. Their last fight isn’t the worst they’ve ever had, but at least Stiles knows he can always count on amazing make-up sex.

“Fuck,” Stiles groans as Derek works a third finger into him, dragging hot, wet kisses down his chest. Stiles’ cock is straining against his belly, leaking precome. He’s so ready for Derek to fuck him, he can barely think straight. “Need you inside me, right the fuck now.”

Derek pulls back to smirk at him, and Stiles wonders if he’s going to get his revenge now. But then he’s pulling his fingers free, moving to slick his cock instead. Derek pushes into him slowly, but Stiles is having none of that tonight.

“No, no, come on, _fuck_ me Derek. Wanna feel you take me apart,” he gasps out, thrusting his hips up. Derek huffs out a soft laugh, but complies with his request. He sets an almost brutal pace, but Stiles loves every second of it, moaning and crying out as Derek fills him, driving him towards the edge.

Stiles can tell when Derek is close, and he instinctively reaches down to bring himself off. But Derek slaps his hand away, replacing it with his own instead. It takes less than a minute before Stiles comes with a shout, spilling over Derek’s hand and his own stomach, Derek following him over the edge almost immediately.

Once they’ve finished cleaning up, Derek presses up behind him and curls a possessive arm around Stiles’s waist. Stiles is nearly asleep when he suddenly remembers something he keeps forgetting to ask Derek.

“How did you know where to find me that night?”

Derek is quiet for so long that Stiles wonders if he actually fell asleep instead. But just before Stiles is about to give up the cause, he hears Derek say, “You don't remember? You called me at midnight, laughing like an idiot. Apparently you consider breaking out of the hospital to be a lifetime achievement.”

He hesitates for a moment before saying, “Well, it was pretty fucking awesome, man. I deserve at least a medal.”

The laughter that fills the room is a pleasant surprise, and Stiles falls asleep with a smile on his face for the first time in a week.


	7. Group C (no warnings)

**37**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49003.html

 

“Yeah because nothing screams stable like,” Stiles said, gasping the words out as Derek fucked into him, “yelling at a guy in bar because last time—oh god do that again.” He breathed in shakily. “Because last time you hooked up he stole your underwear.”

Derek made a noise that could have been a laugh but also could have been a growl or just heavy breathing. 

“That only proves that you’re an idiot,” Derek said, punctuating it with a flex of his hips that made Stiles’s spine arch up off the bed. 

“I want you to be our emissary. The pack trusts you.” Derek slid out almost all the way out and made him wait, like a big fucking tease. Stiles opened his mouth to complain and Derek slammed back in, knocking Stiles’s teeth together.

Stiles reached up to hold on to the headboard to get enough leverage to push down into Derek’s thrusts. 

Derek pushed in as far as he could, hips working tiny circles against Stiles’s ass. The stretch was perfect, raw and overwhelming. Derek’s lips pressed sloppily against his ear, wet and hot, and his breath was like a brand on his neck.

“I trust you.” It was the angle, definitely not the sudden attack of feelings that made Stiles jerk helplessly against Derek’s hands on his hips.

“Derek, I need to, I’m so close.”

“Do it. Come on, Stiles, touch yourself.” Stiles hand detached itself from the headboard and floated down to grab his dick. He only managed maybe three strokes before he came all over Derek’s abs. Stiles flopped back and watched Derek thrust in until he groaned and collapsed on top of Stiles.

Stiles was still catching his breath when Derek pulled out and rolled off the bed to get rid of the condom and grab some tissues. Derek wiped half-heartedly at the mess on Stiles’s stomach before dropping the dirty tissues off the side of the bed and face-planting in the mattress.

Stiles dozed for a while until Derek’s fidgeting woke up him up.

“Are you really mad about the underwear?” Derek’s voice was muffled because his face was shoved into the pillow but Stiles could see the tips of his ears where they were flushed pink.

“You mean, am I mad at you for jerking it to a face-full of my dirty boxers?” Stiles tried to keep a straight face. “Or for being a dirty pervert who gets hard just from smelling-” Derek rolled over suddenly, like the freaky ninja-werewolf he was, caging Stiles in and burying his face in Stiles’s neck. 

“Shut up,” Derek told Stiles’s collarbone.

“What? Are you embarrassed that the smell of my day-old come makes your dick drip all over the place?” 

“Is this your idea of talking dirty, because it could use some work.” 

“Don’t even front, I know that’s not a banana in your pocket, dude. Mostly because you aren’t wearing pants and thus don’t have any pockets. My dirty talk is totally doing it for you.” Stiles did a victorious little wiggle.

“I’m serious, shut up.” Derek pulled back to glare at him. Stiles quirked an eyebrow.

“Make me.”

Derek did.

**38**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49019.html

 

Allison applied another coat of lipstick, cherry red, and slid her bra strap back into place. Ok, so technically yes she was wearing a red tank top to the spotlight party. But under it was a yellow bra and green panties. She was only going to see if the rumors were true. 

At the party Lydia and Jackson danced, their hands disappearing under matching shades of red. Stiles was on the phone in a red, green, and yellow plaid shirt. 

“Oof,” a drink splashed down her top, “Sorry?”

“Scott,” she didn’t shriek but a few heads turned. “Coke really doesn’t come out of silk.”

“Allison,” he dropped the cup and slid his arm to her waist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“Looking for someone?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Stiles. But he keeps walking around. I’m really sorry.”

She sighed and looked down. “It’s fine.”

He smiled and grabbed her hand, and she felt her resolve melt. His damned sweet eyes and hopeful smile always weakened her. She smiled and shook her head.

“It’s fine. I’ll just,” she began to walk. He followed.

“You wore red.”

Allison nodded. “I did.”

They made it to the bathroom and Scott closed the door, locked it. Then swallowed when Allison pulled her shirt off. “And yellow.”

She smiled and looked up at his reflection. “I did.”

Scott took a stepped behind her. “Any other color?”

She turned off the water; soaked the silk. She turned, leaned against the sink, “Wanna find out?”

Scott took a step closer, “Yeah?”

Allison kissed his cheek, “Yeah.” 

She pulled his shirt off and trailed her nails down his chest. He’d filled out since the last time they were together. She felt his fingers against her belly and her zipper pulled down. He buried his head in her neck and breathed deep, and his hands shook as they slid into her jeans. “I miss you.”

“I know,” she whispered. She looked him in the eyes, “Me too.”

He kissed her hard, his teeth catching her lip and his tongue sliding against hers. He pulled her jeans off and groaned when she rolled her hips into his touch. “Scott,” she whispered and cupped his face to kiss him. 

She fumbled at his jeans, then laughed when he cursed and did it himself. His fingers wrapped around the string of her panties. “Green?” he breath caught and she pulled his wallet from his jeans. 

“Just in case,” she said and pulled out the condom. “You were here.”

“Hoped you would be,” he whispered against her ear. He turned them until her back hit the wall, and she stepped out of her jeans. The neon green panties followed. “You’re beautiful.”

She breathed his name and pulled him close until he stepped out of his jeans and boxers. His trailed his fingers down her belly and he found her heat. His fingers danced over her lips until they were sticky wet. She rolled her hips again and kissed him, sighed when his fingers moved over her clit. 

She licked his jaw, then neck, then placed open-mouthed kisses on his chest as she slid down his body and bit lightly at his belly. “I miss us,” she mouthed against his thigh. 

Before Scott could answer she kissed the hard line of his cock, tongued at the precum at the tip, then circled the head. She lined his length with wet kisses, then pulled him into her mouth. She pulled off and popped the condom in her mouth, slid down his length. Scott wrapped a hand around her hair and pulled, biting his lip as he rolled his hips. “Alli, please.”

She grinned around the tip and ran her hand over his slicked cock, then stood. She ran her hand up his chest, wet with sweat and her kisses. 

He slid into her, then pulled out and kissed her bared throat. They both groaned when he slid back in. He kept the achingly slow pace until she broke, until she begged him to moved faster and clawed her hands loose. He let go and wrapped her legs around his waist; licked into her mouth and fucked into her cunt. 

She whispered, “I love you,” and he slid his thumb over her clit. 

“I love you, too.” He sped up, his cock and his fingers, and swallowed her scream as she came. She bit his neck, hard, and he groaned her name as the orgasm gripped him. 

**39**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-47107.html

Allison wasn't even sure whose party it was, all she remembered was that she'd been invited, and had been sober before she'd got there. All it had taken were a few shots, and half a bottle of vodka before she found herself upstairs in a bedroom, and as he locked the door, she pressed her lips against his, grinding her hips into him. He moved his hands over her body, and she closed her eyes. She loved being in control, but not tonight. She wanted him to take control. He was older than her, that much she could tell, and that helped the illusion. Expertly, he removed her clothes, and pushed her down onto the bed, entering her roughly and dryly, hurting her, but soon the pain was replaced by pleasure, and he was kissing her neck.

But she wasn't here in this bedroom, with this guy.

She was back at home, staring into his blue eyes. Her fingers were running through his soft, brown hair. His stubble scratched at her face, and it only made her even more sensitive. She wanted him to know she wasn't a little girl any more. She didn't have her mother to run to, no one in her family did. She had to be the woman of the house, and she didn't mind. She could take care of herself. She could take care of him.

She wasn't sure when things had changed for her... it had to have been after the funeral. When it was just the two of them in the house, and suddenly, she started seeing things differently. Maybe it was just a strange manifestation of her grief, or something she'd felt deep down and never realised. He would hold her when she was sad, she'd kiss his cheek whenever he seemed low, but all the while, she'd be getting wet, and it wouldn't be long before she'd have to excuse herself, running up to the bathroom to lock the door, and masturbate furiously, until the intense desire subsided. She'd never masterbated before, never saw the point of it, but when the imagery was so hot, and something she'd never get to experience, she had to roll with it.

His nails dug into her hips as he slammed into her, and she screamed with every thrust, never daring to open her eyes, and silencing herself only by opening her mouth, their tongues dancing together. He tasted of sweat, and in Allison's mind he smelt of gunpowder, and dirt.

"You're so hot, baby..." He whispered into her ear, biting the lobe, and she couldn't keep the smile off her face. She was doing a good job. She could keep the facade up, she could make him happy.

"I can be anything you want me to be." She whispered to him, almost encouraging the guy to do the same, licking his lobe, and gasping as he pinched her nipple. "Anything at all..." Her words were a jumbled mess, partly because of the alcohol slurring her words, partly for the pleasure coarsing through her body. She wanted more, she never wanted this to end. She never wanted to open her eyes.

"I'm so close..." He said huskily, and his hand left her breast to reach down, rubbing her clit in tight circles as he continued thrusting in and out. "You want me to pull out?"

"Nnn...." She could barely force the words out, rocking back and forth against his dick, willing herself to get off too. "I want... I... Can I come....?" She muttered. 

"Go for it, slut. Cum on daddy's dick." The words were all the approval she needed, and did nothing but help the picture in her mind. This wasn't just some guy, this was Chris. This was her father. This wasn't just some bedroom, this was her's. He'd come to her looking for comfort, and she'd given him what he needed. What they both needed. Screaming, she felt her juices soak the bed, and slowly she came down from her orgasm. Opening her eyes, she was disappointed, and remembering that it was just an illusion, she began sobering up quickly, and she felt ashamed. That she'd done this, that she'd wanted it to be him at all.

"Get the fuck out." She snapped, her eyes narrowing, and she grabbed for her clothes. Rolling his eyes, the guy shrugged, pulled zipped up his pants, and unlocked the door.

"Crazy bitch..." He muttered, slamming the door behind him.

**40**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-2237.html

“I get turned down more than a collar. Where are the desperate boys? I need to crawl to them or find them or something.”

Stiles wobbled on the front porch steps despite Lydia’s firm grip on one arm and Allison’s on the other. 

“I mean,” he continued, as Lydia snatched the keys from his hand and unlocked the door to his house, “it’s my birthday. Scott and Derek are out doing werewolfy things and I just have you two. I love you two. I do, but Scott is my best friend. But I’m not a werewolf! We’re humans. We’re awesome. We’re awesomely human. Team Human!”

Allison smiled at Stiles fondly. “You’re so drunk.”

“I’m allowed! I’m twenty-one, still a virgin. It’s my birthday!”

Stiles stumbled across the threshold, foot catching on air, limbs flailing uselessly.

“We know it’s your birthday,” Lydia huffed, her nails digging in to Stiles’ arm to keep him upright. “And we’re well aware that you’re a virgin.”

“If Derek would get his head out of his ass and his cock into my ass then things would be okay,” Stiles slurred. “But he won’t and I….”

“Stiles,” Lydia said sharply, eyeing him. 

Stiles bit his lip, his eyes stinging. He allowed the girls to manhandle him up the stairs to his room and push him to the bed.

“I’m sad and drunk,” Stiles said, looking down at his hands, his vision blurry, his body swaying in time with his heartbeat.

“Yes, we know,” Lydia said, “but cheer up. We got you a present.”

Stiles perked up at that. “You already bought me drinks.”

“This is different,” Allison said, smiling. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

Lydia produced a rectangular package from somewhere, and dropped it in his lap. His fingers fumbled with the ribbon, but he managed to open it. 

It was a dildo.

“Another reminder of how pathetically lonely I am. Really, thank you.”

“That’s only part of the present,” Allison said, sitting next to him on the bed. 

“Part of it?”

“Don’t be dense,” Lydia said, moving to his other side. “Do you want us to use it on you?”

It took a minute for Lydia’s offer to register and when it did Stiles gulped, suddenly much more alert than before, his cock already hard in his jeans from the heat of Allison pressing into his arm and Lydia’s breathy promise in his ear. 

“You would?”

They nodded. 

“Do you know how?”

“So sweet,” Lydia said. “Just trust us.”

“But Scott and Derek -”

“Aren’t here.” Allison reminded him softly. “Team Human, remember?”

Stiles licked his lips. “Yeah, okay. Yeah.”

It all went very fast from there. 

Soon, Stiles was naked on his knees. Lydia’s bare breasts pressed against his back and she wrapped one arm around his chest, anchoring him, keeping him from flying apart as she pumped the lube-slicked dildo in and out of his ass. Allison cupped his face, kissed him, her mouth warm and wet, tongue soft as it slid past his lips. He gripped Allison’s hips, his cock sliding across her stomach, leaving smears of pre-come on her perfect skin. He gasped and moaned into her mouth on each thrust from Lydia, each twist of Lydia’s wrist, each encouraging whisper against his shoulder. 

“You’re so good, Stiles,” Lydia purred. “Look at you taking it. You love it. I knew you’d love it.”

Lydia fucked him deep, the toy stretching him wide, and he trembled at the delicious burn of being so full.  
“Oh god,” he gasped. “Oh _fuck_.”

Allison pulled away, smiled at him wickedly, and dropped to her hands and knees. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut when Allison sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth. 

“Watch her,” Lydia whispered. “Watch her suck you.”

Stiles opened his eyes, compelled by Lydia’s command, and looked down at Allison’s shiny red lips wrapped around his dick, how every time Lydia thrust the dildo into him, he slid further into Allison’s wide mouth.

Allison sucked him while Lydia pumped into him. It was amazing, too much, Allison’s wet mouth, and Lydia’s accurate thrusts. Stiles shook, broke into pieces. 

“I’m going to….”

“Come for us, Stiles,” Lydia commanded. 

Allison pulled off with one last lick to the head of his cock and Stiles cried out, back arching, coming. It shot onto Allison’s face, thick streaks sliding down her cheeks and chin. She licked it up, pulled Stiles down to kiss him again. 

Lydia followed, smiling, curled around his back and petted his hair.

**41**

[entry removed due to failure to comply with the rules]

 

**42**

**Link to text chosen:**  
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-29852.html  
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-43183.html  
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-21992.html

 

It was nearing dawn when Stiles tiptoed up the stairs to his room, shoes in his hand. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he had the agility of a were’ so that he could scale the grape arbor and climb directly into his bedroom through the window. With luck, his Dad would assume he’d been home most of the night. If not, well, he always had Scott as a fallback excuse.

Shucking his jeans, he threw himself down on his mattress with a wince, curled up on his side and took out his phone, checking for messages. Yup, there was one from Scott:

(Scott:) Sorry for bailing, bro! Saw Allison on the dance floor. She wanted to talk, so we went for a walk.

Stiles rolled his eyes. Yeah right, talk. He grinned and shot back a reply:

(630): Don't worry I drank 7 more beers & brought home a guy that bit me at the bar.

That should get a rise out of old Scotty-boy. Stiles chuckled.

They’d been at the club less than an hour before Scott had flaked out on him, leaving Stiles sitting at the bar, flirting with the bartenders and trying to cajole them into selling him something stronger than a coke. He’d looked up to find his favourite creepy werewolf, Derek Hale, seated at the far end of the bar, scowling into his drink, preternaturally still against the backdrop of the noisy and bustling dance-floor. He looked – odd. And sad. So very out of place in the riot of vibrant light and motion and colour.

Of COURSE Stiles couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie (so to speak – heh!) so he’d put his life on the line, pulled up a stool and warmly offered to let Derek buy him a beer. He guessed Derek must have been startled into compliance – he’d have to remember to try that again – and more surprisingly, after Stiles’ enthusiastic greeting and relentless chatter, it hadn’t taken more than – what, three consecutive drinks? Does alcohol even work on werewolves? - before Mr. Broody-face had pulled himself out his gloom and started to respond.

Sure, it had been one- or two-word answers at first. But the turnaround had come when they touched on the topic of the mass of humanity crowding the club. “They’re happy,” Derek shrugged. “Busy. Sometimes it’s just easier being alone in the middle of a crowd, than being alone on my own.” And thus began an hours-long discussion on the semantic and philosophical differences between being a loner, being lonely, and being alone. A topic, it turns out, on which they both had much to say.

Once they’d waded through THAT emotional minefield, it didn’t seem like either of them was surprised at the end of the night when Stiles had opened the passenger door of the Camaro and calmly seated himself next to Derek. Derek certainly didn’t kick Stiles out. They’d totally got each other, Stiles thought, as he’d followed Derek up the staircase to his room and crawled on top of him on the bed. Derek’s arms had come up around him, their hips aligned and their lips met, and if there was a better way to bond a pack, Stiles’ brain was too flooded with teenaged hormones to think of it.

Stiles flushed with a rush of pleasure at the memories of bare skin, hands and mouths, tongues and teeth. He raised a hand to his neck, aware that he had a brilliant set of bruises to prove his adventure. Neither of them had shown much restraint once the clothes had come off, and Stiles wasn’t really sure which of them had looked more wrecked at the end of it, after they’d both had a turn at the plundering and ravaging and general getting to know each other really, really, REALLY well. Multiple times.

They were totally friends now. At least. He’d even scored a phone number – that made it “something”, right? His thumbs tapped out a quick message to Derek:  
.  
(514): Thanks for having me and my emotional baggage over last night.

Stiles rolled over onto his back, winced, and quickly sent out a follow-up text: 

(509): I would also like to inform you that I can no longer lay on my back because my tailbone is bruised from the nightstand. Good job.

With a final smile, Stiles set down his phone, pulled the blankets over his head, and went to sleep. 

**43**

**Link to text chosen:** <http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-2216.html>

 

It is 3 A.M. and Derek is celebrating his solitude by doing circuits. His phone buzzes on the counter across the room.

 _u busy?_ It’s from Stiles. Stiles who should be asleep, who has school in a few hours, but who is awake and texting Derek. It’s not the first time, and Derek knows this game well enough by now.

 _not exactly_ He sends back. He throws his phone on back on the counter, returns to his push-ups, and ignores the buzzing that signals a nearly immediate response from Stiles.

Moments later, his phone vibrates again and Derek surrenders. He opens the messages to read _so come over_ followed by _also, i may or may not be wearing a cape right now. hint: i am._

Derek exhales through his nose. He throws on a clean shirt, and allows himself 5 minutes before responding with _is that supposed to be sexy?_

Derek remembers all too well the evening when Stiles had attempted to introduce him to sexting.

 _how is that even a question?_ Stiles sends back and then _of course it’s supposed to be sexy_

Derek is still mentally composing an appropriate response to that when he receives _just get your furry ass over here_

He takes his time. He does his best to convince himself that he has better things to do than drop everything for a booty call, that his life has not actually come to this, that he’d be better off just ignoring his phone for the rest of the night. It’s a lost cause though, and he frowns at his windshield the entire drive across town.

When he climbs through the window, the lights are off and Stiles is sitting in eerie illumination from his computer screen. His mouth hanging open and he is indeed wearing a cape. And not much more.

It looks like a child’s costume, cheap red synthetic fabric clasped around the neck with weak velcro. It’s comically short, cutting off just above the waistband of Stiles’s boxer shorts.

It’s decidedly unsexy.

He catches Stiles when he launches from the desk chair and lets him kiss him anyway. Pulls him close and slides his hands down all that bare skin to slide those boxers down a teasing inch.

Stiles groans half laughing when Derek’s hands move from his hips up to his chest. Derek slips his fingers under the collar of the absurd cape, uses it to pull Stiles close and suck a bruising mark on his skin. He begins to undo the velcro closure when Stiles grabs his hands and says “Can we uh...can we leave it on?”

“Seriously?” Derek pleads.

Stiles gives him a crooked grin that Derek can totally resist, really he can, he just chooses not to. He huffs and says “You know you look ridiculous.”

Stiles nods and unzips Derek’s jeans. “Ridiculously sexy,” he corrects, and slides Derek’s jeans off his hips, lets them fall to the floor. Derek closes his eyes as they kiss so he doesn’t have to think about whether or not Stiles is right.

Derek has Stiles’s cock in his hand when curiosity gets the best of him. “Where the hell did you even find this thing?”

“Unf, closet,” Stiles says into Derek’s neck. “Was looking for, shit, this one thing and I found this instead, which-” Derek kisses him to shut him up, falls back against the wall when Stiles drops to his knees.

“Admit it, I look fucking awesome,” he jacks Derek’s cock, grinning up at him. Derek is unable to properly verbalize his agreement.

Stiles swallows him down, looks pleased about it when Derek fucks into his mouth. He jerks his own cock roughly as Derek gathers a handful of cape and tugs it, straining the collar. Derek can hear the hooks of velcro giving way over the sound of Stiles choking on his cock as he comes down his throat.

Derek releases his grip and Stiles falls back against the side of his bed, panting as his quick strokes bring his own release. Derek grabs the edge of the cape and cleans the come off of Stiles’s stomach with it. “Seriously?” Stiles protests, but he smiles when Derek smirks and throws an arm around his red satiny shoulders.

**44**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-6492.html

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Derek half growled, half groaned breathlessly as he stared down at the slightly puffy face looking avariciously back up at him.

Stiles grinned, all wet lips and teeth, his mouth a bit slack and just a bit of drool at one corner. "Yep, so wanna do this," he slurred before smashing his nose into Derek's jean-covered crotch.

"Jesus, Stiles!"

Stiles giggled and fiddled with the other man's belt buckle to no success. From experience, Derek know that Stiles was a bit high from having a filling replaced--drugs, even the legal kind, always made him a bit goofy--so he wasn't surprised that his fingers were fumbling. "Is this like a chastity belt or something?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek nudged Stiles' hands and face away and quickly undid his belt, then popped the button on his jeans. Before he could reach for the zipper, Stiles was pulling it down, pulling down his jeans and his boxers and...oh.

Hot, wet, swollen lips around the head of his cock and he was hard as a rock already.

Bracing his legs and placing one hand on Stiles' head, telling himself not to pull his hair because that might make him stop, he stared intently down at the young man going to town on his cock, sucking and licking, drooling and grunting, driving him crazy. His hands found Derek's ass, shoving the boxer shorts down even farther to squeeze him, and Derek groaned and thrust his hips forward on instinct.

Before he knew it or could warn Stiles, the head of his dick punched into his throat. "Fuck, sorry!" He tried to pull back, but Stiles just grinned with his eyes and breathed roughly through his nose and pulled him towards him harder until the base of his cock was being tickled by those lips.

Then Stiles pulled slowly back until the head popped free, gasped for breath, and dove down again.

Fuck, he could see the thick head of his cock in Stiles' throat and the pressure...oh, fuck...

Derek pumped, he couldn't help himself, and Stiles just took it and squeezed his ass and hummed and slobbered on his dick, and Derek came long before he planned to, spilling down that tight, hot, clenching throat.

When Stiles pulled back, panting harshly, trembling all over, but still smiling, a bead of cum slipped over his slack lower lip and he used a finger to push it back into his mouth. "Oops."

"Jesus..." Shaking from head to foot, Derek collapsed back onto Stiles' bed and stared at him. They'd never done that before. He'd never had anyone deep throat him. "Um...you want...?" He gestured vaguely in the direction of Stiles' crotch, then caught the scent of his cum, and smirked.

"Yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball. Came in my pants." Shoving himself to his feet, Stiles swayed for a minute, then massaged his throat and made a slight face. "Ow."

"Shit, I hurt you." Suddenly concerned, Derek reached for him and dragged him onto his lap, ignoring both their sticky groins. Carefully placing a hand on Stiles' throat he drew out some of the pain.

"It's okay," Stiles mumbled. "It was fun. Just...probably should have waited for the novocaine to wear off before giving you head. I think your penis touched my lung."

Derek snorted and, ignoring the black lines crawling up his arm and the accompanying ache, kissed his lover gently on his numb lips.

**45**

**Link to text chosen:** [(x)](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49177.html)

 

The first photograph came shortly after 7:00 A.M.. Derek was drinking his morning coffee while waiting for Isaac to get ready and looking at HuffPo’s headlines on his iPad when his phone dinged. He grabbed it without looking and promptly choked on his coffee when he realized what he’d been sent. 

It was a photograph of Stiles’ hand wrapped firmly around his morning wood, apropos of nothing. His fingers, skinny and long, stretched around the flushed skin of his dick in an erotic splay. Pre-cum dripped from his head to his stomach, and the morning light made him look like a perverse Renaissance painting. 

A second picture arrived while he was trying to wrap his head around the first - this one of Stiles’ release covering his hands and abdomen, and dripping from his spent cock.

Derek didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.

The third photograph, arriving shortly after 10:00 A.M., was of Stiles fellating his pen. His cheeks were hollowed out and alit by lighting that made them look sharp enough to cut glass. It was a coy parody of a selfie, and Stiles’ honey eyes were laden with promise. 

Derek was aroused, but he wasn’t sure if Stiles was toying with him or making an actual offer, so he once again ignored it.

The forth picture arrived around lunch. It was obviously taken in the school cafeteria and was an abstract shot of Stiles’ jaw line, neck, and clavicle dipping into his shirt collar. It was innocent compared to the other three images, but visually more erotic. His skin looked bioluminescent, with a smattering of moles and dips and lines that looked tailor made for his tongue, and Derek _wanted._

The fifth picture came ten minutes later and was of Stiles jerking off in what looked to be the boys’ locker room. 

The sixth picture - god save him - followed only moments after the fifth and was of Stiles sucking his cum-dirty fingers and looking at the camera under the fan of his lashes. 

Derek was confused, hard as rock, and unsure whether to be annoyed or entertained. After his eighteenth birthday, Stiles started hanging around the loft more, constantly pushing at Derek’s patience and boundaries with his unyielding _Stilesness,_ but never more than that. 

Until today. 

Three texts from Isaac arrived in rapid fire:  
 _Derek, make him stop. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I know it’s got to do w/you._

_Derek. D:_

_He smells like he just jerked off._

Derek snorted, thinking of the photographs of Stiles doing just that. Two more texts arrived.

_Oh God, he’s giving a banana a BJ and making Scott take a picture. People are LOOKING. I can’t tell if Scott’s gunna cry or run away._

_Scott just ran away. Blaming you forever. Scarred for life._

His phone chimed a moment later with the seventh photograph: a shot of Stiles fellating a banana. Derek couldn’t help it, he laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed until his stomach clenched and tears rimmed his eyes. He looked at the seventh picture and took in the details. Stiles‘ eyes were bright with laughter and mirth, and the kids at some of the nearby tables were indeed watching him blow a banana. In the middle of lunch. The tableau struck him as hilarious and he chuckled as he responded.

It is a melancholy truth that even great men have their poor relations.

Stiles’ reply was immediate. _My my, don’t we think highly of ourselves. Also, I just sent you a multitude of sexual pictures...and you responded with a Charles Dickens quote._

Derek didn’t bother to stop his grin. _Your point?_

_If you were trying to discourage me, that’s not how to do it._

_If you were trying to court me, that’s not how to do it._ Which was a blatant lie; he wanted to see what else Stiles had up his sleeve, or rather, down his pants.

_Calm down, Queen Victoria. I’ll stick to your 19th century sensibilities from now own, if that’s what you want._

Derek responded with a dick shot that would have made Anthony Weiner gun shy. 

_JFC DEREK HOLY SHIT_

In for a penny, in for a pound, Derek figured. _You should come over after practice._

_I should COME right now, you mean._

Derek rolled his eyes at the pun. _Don’t even think of skipping your last class._

 _Have you met me? OMW._

He toggled to Isaac’s text. _Avoid loft for a few hours after school._

_FUCK YOU--CRASHING W/SCOTT 2NITE_

Derek took another photograph while he waited for Stiles to arrive. 

For reasons.

**46**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-30763.html

He looks too much like his mother. It's what he thinks when he's had a few too many and the sun's a bit too low and the sink stinks of the shit the boy can never clear away. He looks a bit too fucking much like his mother, and she'd been a two bit whore too.

Whiskey drips from the door, but the neighbors' porch light finally goes off, leaving him to his peace for another ten, fifteen minutes maybe. Isaac's quietened down downstairs. Kid needed some discipline, that was all. 

_Yeah he's definitely gonna feel that one when he wakes up. I beat the shit out of him with that broom handle,_ he fumbles on his phone to Greg who'd get it. Guy knows what it's like with a kid who does shit all and expects everything in return. Fucking little sucker wants it all and looks at him with her eyes and her hair and her mouth and opens his mouth and spreads the ugly with his words without giving him shit in return.

He eases back on the chair, pulse in his cock going in time to the thumping from downstairs, but Isaac would be really quiet soon enough, would shut the fuck up and bawl his tears where no one had to look at it. He slides his hand into his trousers and gets it around his cock until the knock comes on the door, pumps a little until he's primed and Isaac's knocked himself out.

Jackson pauses in the doorway, lips tight and eyes hard and hesitant like he’s never sucked cock before. Been a few summers now, when she’d been alive but he could never get her to go down on him. Isaac had been bawling on the side of the porch, and amid the melee of that and her he’d caught Jackson watching, drooling at the sight of his cock, and he told him to _come get it, boy, want a piece of this, boy_ , over her choked sobs.

That night Jackson had jumped the fence and knelt pretty for him in the middle of the yard, nosing at his balls, rubbing his face all over the cock before he gobbled it down. He’d come all over Jackson’s face, sprayed him down and thrown a ten dollar bill at him. He’d been back a few days later, and again, and now he’s standing in the doorway, a full grown man who drops to his knees and crawls for a bit of dick.

“Want a bit of this, cocksucker?” he taunts, and Jackson nuzzles into his crotch, wanting some all right.

This one never bawls, never cries at him to stop. He just opens his mouth and lets him fuck that pretty face and doesn't go whining to anyone about it. He knows he taught Jackson right when he buries his cock to the hilt in Jackson’s throat and watches him get gunk all over his chin and chest.

They ignore the thumps from downstairs when they start up again, ignore the car doors going outside and someone calling Jackson’s name. The kid twitches with his mouth full of cock but stays where he is, knows better than to be as fucking useless as his son.

“Imagine they could see you, hm? Being such a good cocksucker for me.”

Isaac wails, and Jackson sucks, and when he stands with his hair painted with come and a tenner in his pocket, he wonders if someone else would have use for him or if the kid’s got enough of a taste of it now he’s already getting enough come elsewhere. Isaac kicks off a bit downstairs, and they both look at the doorway before Jackson looks down at his feet, brushes the back of his hand over his mouth, then glances back at the soft cock that still has his spit all over it, probably wondering if someone would burst in any moment and find him here.

“Go see your friends already,” he says.

More thumps, but Jackson turns to leave. He’s taught him right, after all.

**47**

**Link to text chosen:** [Click](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48629.html)

Allison isn’t sure she has an explanation for this, aside from too many Long Island Ice Teas and the fact that normalcy is something she’s long since bid her bittersweet goodbyes to.

But really: why should this be weird, after everything? This seems like a normal teenage thing compared to the fact that her boyfriend is a werewolf, her aunt is a cold-blooded murderer, and that Allison is supposed to kill too.

All of that seems kind of irrelevant, though, as she splays her hands over Stiles’s chest, her eyes fluttering shut when she sinks down on him. Her breath goes shaky for a moment, fingers curling against his skin as he spreads her open, filling her up until she feels like she has too little room inside herself.

Her thighs tremble as she shifts, circling her hips until she has to bite her lip and Stiles groans low in his throat, his hands reaching out to slide over her thighs.

He’s never been in her before. Or well, not his cock, anyway. He’s fingered her while she exchanged lazy kisses with Scott. And she’s blown him, gagging on his cock while Scott fucked her until she barely had the presence of mind to breathe through her nose. But she’s never had a cock that isn’t Scott’s inside her – now moving, fucking into her with sharp, little thrusts that take her breath away.

The thought that it’s Stiles’s cock sliding into her, making her flushed and wet, is... well, it’s exhilarating. It’s too good. She doesn’t know if it’s supposed to feel like this, if it’s supposed to be exciting that there’s someone else. For a moment she panics until Scott’s breath is on her neck and his fingers brush her hair aside.

She relaxes back into his chest, letting his fingers press at her jaw, angling her head until he can lean in to kiss her, his lips familiar and hot. Licking into the kiss greedily, she reaches a hand up to clutch at his hair.

When Scott grips her waist, leaning her back against him and holding her up so Stiles can fuck up into her, she finally gets the courage to open her eyes. Stiles’s lips are parted and his cheeks are flushed, and somehow it’s comforting to know she’s not the only one affected. She’s not _wrong_ for liking it, and she has to admit that for a moment she’d been afraid she was the only one feeling hot all over.

She looks down at Scott’s hands bracketing her waist, and Stiles’s long fingers curling around her thighs. Letting out a helpless moan that she’d been trying to hold back, she watches breathlessly as Stiles’s cock fucks into her, wet with her juices when he pulls out. Throwing her head back against Scott’s shoulder, she shudders – overwhelmed.

When Scott has prepared her, muttering soft words and making her ass slick with lube, her spine feels like liquid and she’s beyond caring whether it’s a good idea or not. She knows Scott has thought about this. She knows they all have, and she wants to be filled so full that she can’t breathe from the feeling of it.

She falls forward, catching herself with her hands pressed to Stiles’s stomach, gasping out shuddering breaths as she feels _impossibly_ stretched. “Oh, god.” She digs her nails into Stiles’s skin, trying to ground herself to something.

Stiles looks up at Scott, his eyes wide. “Dude, I can fucking _feel you_. Jesus.”

And Allison gives a delirious laugh, because the first time they did this Stiles had informed them that everyone should know the rule that if dicks touch during a threeway you just make lightsaber noises and move on.

There are no lightsaber noises now, only Scott moaning into her ear, her own uncontrolled, high-pitched noises and Stiles swearing loudly as they find some sort of rhythm that makes everything feel too hot and too real.

She can’t keep it together, not when their cocks slide in and out of her alternately, never letting her catch her breath and it’s so good it fucking _hurts_. There’s no way to tell up from down anymore, she doesn’t know who makes what sound, she has no idea which cock is which.

That’s the realisation that finally makes her come with a choked sob, her juices sliding down her thigh as she goes boneless between them.

**48**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49007.html

 

“He what?”

“Deputy Hale was asking about you. Wanted to see how you were doing.”

“That’s nice, I guess.” Stiles shrugged at the dinner table across from his father. 

“He’s been asking about you a lot lately, actually. Even since before your accident,” the Sheriff mentioned casually. Stiles raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “I gave him your number.”

Stiles fumbled with his fork and it fell on the floor. “You _what_?”

“He’s shy as hell and you’re oblivious.”

“Dad!” Stiles yelled. “How do--but what. I mean, he’s so--what?”

“You’re welcome,” the Sheriff replied.

*****

“You’re going out with a dude you’ve never talked to before?” Scott asked doubtfully, over the phone.

Stiles held his phone between his ear and shoulder as he tried to decide what to wear.

“We’ve talked! At the station when I drop off dinner for dad and...”

“Exactly,” Scott said flatly.

“Hey! He was at the hospital after my accident! He’s seen me hopped up on some major painkillers and he still wasn’t put off. I think he can handle whatever I throw at him. Plus he’s _incredibly_ hot. Like, tv show-serial killer hot.”

Scott snorted. “Not that I don’t think you’re a catch, dude, but I can see this ending badly. He works for your dad!”

Stiles was quiet as he eyed a shirt and pair of pants together. “Think he’d agree to wear his gun in bed?”

Stiles snickered over Scott’s strangled yell.

*****

Dinner was a polite affair. 

Too polite.

Derek was a rising star in the Beacon Hills detachment, dedicated to his job and stiffer than a starched shirt.

 Stiles was a grad student finishing his thesis who could barely find matching socks and couldn’t do subtle innuendo if his life depended on it.

Hot or not, it wasn’t the best match.

“So this was fun,” Stiles said as they reached Stiles’ Jeep outside the restaurant. “Thanks for a nice evening.”

He stuck his hand out for Derek to shake. Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed like he had a perma-scowl.

“It was nice, yes,” Derek replied, woodenly. Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and turned to get into his vehicle. He heard Derek turn away to leave but a second later Stiles felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah?” With a quiet growl Derek pushed Stiles back against the Jeep and leaned in, giving Stiles enough time to push him away if he wanted, and kissed him.

Stiles made a noise in his throat and wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders to pull him in closer, opening his mouth to Derek right away.

“You drive me crazy,” Derek whispered against Stiles’ mouth.

“How? I didn’t even know you noticed me,” Stiles murmured back, pressing small kisses to the side of Derek’s mouth.

“You’re always around. _Always_ ,” Derek told him fervently. “Always at the station and checking up on your dad. Then when you were in that accident- Jesus, I couldn’t believe how far under my skin you’d gotten.”

“God bless morphine,” Stiles groaned. Derek kissed him again, quickly, then glanced around the dark parking lot they were in.

“C’mere.” Derek opened Stiles’ back door and followed him in. “Let’s see how many laws we can break.”

Stiles looked down where Derek’s suit jacket opened and noticed a holstered pistol snug against his body.

“Yeeeesss,” Stiles hissed, leaning up to kiss Derek wetly.

Ten minutes later Stiles was sprawled across his back seat with Derek crouched over him awkwardly, swallowing Stiles’ cock down like it was his last assignment.

“Jesus Derek,” Stiles moaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Your mouth...”

Derek held Stiles’ hips down, controlled how he moved against Derek’s suction, and Stiles’d never realized being so rigid could be so hot. He strained against Derek’s grip to no avail.

“Yeah, yeah! Gonna come soon,” Stiles gasped. Derek hummed his encouragement and within seconds Stiles was gone, bucking up into Derek’s mouth freely.

Derek had just enough time to wipe his mouth when there was a tap at Stiles’ now-steamy window.

“Shit,” Stiles muttered, as he tried to get himself together and Derek covered his boner.

Stiles rolled down the back window and squinted into the bright light of a flashlight shining at him.

“Son?”

“Dad?”

The Sheriff took one look at his son and deputy and grinned before turning to walk away. “You’re welcome.”

**49**

**Link to text chosen:** http://m.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49052.html

 

When Stiles had envisioned rooming during college, he'd hoped for a fellow geek, someone he could play Mario with and who understood (or at least tolerated) his love for Mumford and Sons. What Stiles really expected, on the other hand, was a carbon copy of Jackson - a pretty-boy bully dating the hottest girl in the student body. Because so far, in his 18 years of life, that was Stiles' luck in a nut shell.

What Stiles gets, however, is neither. Sure, his roommate's the hottest piece of ass on campus, and sure, he tolerates Mumford well enough, but what Stiles did not expect is that his roommate is the _grumpiest motherfucker of all time_.

Also, fire extinguishers.

"Why is there _another_ stolen fire extinguisher in our room? You know that's a felony, right?" Stiles sighs, too tired to even sound angry anymore; he's just exasperated, and frustrated, and _completely confused_.

Derek - his hot, Mumford-and-Sons-approving, broody-as-fuck roommate, _growls at Stiles_ , and stalks out of their room.

*

Derek's actually a few years older, a post-grad who's somehow ended up in student halls with a bunch of typical drunk and/or high undergrads. Stiles feels sorry for him at first, up until their sixth day sharing air, when Derek glowers at Stiles for two hours from his side of the room, and the fire extinguishers start appearing out of nowhere.

"He sounds bat-shit insane, dude," Scott shrugs over Skype sympathetically. 

"At least he's not bullying you?" Allison tries to offer, but it falls flat on Stiles' ears. 

"Stiles," Lydia interrupts before anyone else has anything equally useless to offer, "for someone who lives his life on the Internet, I'm surprised you haven't seen this already." Her tone is all condescension and smugness, but Stiles is immune to her and her strawberry-blonde hair now, after years of exposure. Instead of snarking back, he clicks on the link she's sent.

Stiles stares at the online news article, let's out a long exhale of air, and whispers, "Fuck."

*

"So."

Stiles isn't surprised when Derek doesn't even grace him with a cursory glance. Derek just continues tapping away at his laptop - very, _very_ slowly - like it's personally offended him.

Stiles clears his throat and starts again. "You can steal-- well, _bring_ however many fire extinguishers you like. Here. Whenever. And if you run out of room, I've got, er, space." He waves under his bed. "Under my bed."

Derek looks up, at last, and meets Stiles' nervous stare. 

"Thanks," Derek eventually says quietly. He then goes back to typing his essay. No apologies. No explanations about pasts or weird klepto tendencies. 

Stiles returns to his own work, turning up Mumford's 'I Will Wait', and tries not to worry about all those buildings that are missing fire extinguishers. 

*

Stiles had intially thought the truce he'd instigated over the fire extinguishers would be enough to get Derek on his side, but it takes almost another month for him to understand why Derek glares at him all the time. 

Derek comes back drunk for the first time on a Thursday night. Later, Stiles will find out that this particular Thursday is The Anniversary, but not before Derek pins him violently to the wall and begins to nearly _chew Stiles' face off._

 _Oh,_ Stiles thinks as he bites back with as much force as he dares, _so that's why_.

*

Stiles whines high in his throat, shoving his arse back onto Derek's fingers. "Derek, _Derek_ , oh fuck, fuck!"

"That's it," Derek coerces with another thrust of his hand, splitting Stiles wider, " _take it_."

Stiles wants to muffle his moans by biting his arm, but they're pinned behind him by Derek, who latches onto Stiles' neck and begins to half suck, half bite what feels like the largest hickey onto his skin.

" _Derek_ ," Stiles cries out, a final warning before he tumbles into orgasm, come slicking the way of Derek's fist around Stiles' cock. Derek's fingers fuck him through it, the sound dirty in Stiles' ringing ears, and he whimpers as the pleasure eventually gives way to the wet discomfort of both his cock and arse.

Growling, Derek mounts Stiles, practised and fluid as he sinks into him. As Derek begins to fuck Stiles, each thrust deep and hard, Stiles spots the collection of stolen fire extinguishers shoved under his bed, and smiles to himself as Derek comes inside of him with a stuttered cry of Stiles' name.

**50**

**Link to text chosen:** (306): Sad fact: I'm doing that thing where I'm bored so I give myself Princess Leia hair and drink alcohol. <http://tfl.nu/3yus>

When Erica comes back, it’s not exactly to open arms. It’s been a year of endless territory battles for Derek’s dwindling pack. Stiles figures forgiveness doesn’t come so easily when the wounds are still healing from the latest attack.

Erica’s lip quivers and says she’ll help if they’ll take her back.

No one answers.

Erica walks away, probably off to go tell her parents some lies.

\---

Stiles sees her at school and shoots her a quiet smile. She eats up the attention greedily. He moves seats to be beside her and the way her face lights up makes his heart ache.

\---

It’s not like no one is talking about it; there’s plenty of screaming to be overheard if you’re standing behind the right door.

“You told me to run and I ran.” Erica’s voice is wrecked from the shouting and the sobs. “You aren’t allowed to hate me for that.”

“I don’t hate you,” Boyd says. It’s hard to believe him, though, when the words sting with bitterness.

After Boyd walks away, Stiles is there to pick up the pieces and drive her home.

\---

They strike up this weird sort of friendship after that, both on the fringe of what is really happening. Isaac comes to school with bruises that aren’t healing and Scott shrugs and tells Stiles he’ll explain later.

Stiles is left out to keep him safe; Erica is kept out because no one trusts her. They bond over greasy food and bitch about it until it hurts less.

 

\---

_Sad fact: I'm doing that thing where I'm bored so I give myself Princess Leia hair and drink alcohol._

Stiles smiles at the text and replies,

_pics?_

_Going to start a marathon. Come over and see?_

The question mark takes him a bit by surprise. Post-bite Erica would have made it a command. He’s not sure what to do with this new version, but with Star Wars and alcohol on offer, he’s already putting on his shoes.

If his mind flashes to Erica in a metal bikini, well, he’s only human.

\---

They’re on Erica’s bed, movie’s playing, but neither of them are paying attention any longer. Her parents are out for the night and the vodka she stole from their liquor cabinet was significantly depleted in the first thirty minutes of his arrival.

Sometime around, “Luke, I am your father,” Erica kisses him.

Their clothes start hitting the floor not long after.

Her breast feel incredible in his palm, soft and heavy. Goosebumps prickle up on her cleavage as he fumbles with the clasp of her lacy bra. Stiles gapes at the first set of naked tits he’s seen in real life; Erica turns away, a blush creeping up her neck and staining her chest.

“This okay?” Stiles shivers, trying to calm himself enough to actually do the right thing here. Stiles knows Erica had a crush on him once and knows she’s vulnerable at the moment. He hopes this isn’t taking advantage because he’s not an asshole like that. The ache of the dick is warring with his need to not fuck up this fragile new friendship they’re starting.

Erica smiles and kisses him. When she pulls back, she whispers into his ear, “I just don’t want to be a virgin anymore.”

“Oh, God,” Stiles blurts out, half-laughing. “Me neither. Shit. Tell me you have condoms. I never thought --”

Erica snorts, like Stiles’ incompetence was everything she needed to get her confidence back, and she reaches for her night stand.

They strip themselves quickly, sneaking peeks, kissing and giggling through their nerves. It’s undeniably awesome though, and Stiles is grateful it’s Erica he’s with -- she makes him feel like he’s pretty fantastic -- and not Lydia, who would be scaring him soft right now.

He gets the condom on and it’s nothing like when he’d practiced; Erica’s watching, curious and unashamed now that it’s _his_ body on display.

“Nice cock, Batman.”

He laughs, head thrown back and carefree. He hadn’t thought he’d laugh this much. He’d thought sex would be all sweat and swearing, scratching nails and jiggling tits. Instead, it’s gentle rolls of their hips and whispered encouragements; Erica’s breath in his ear and the smell of her hair as he tries to go slow.

He doesn’t last long; he’ll do better next time. She holds him until they both stop trembling.

“I’m glad it was you.”

He kisses her wet cheeks. “Me, too.”

**51**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-18067.html

 

“Yo Danny, I got to go. Call you back later.” Stiles hung up the phone and tossed it carelessly on the nightstand. Derek pressed him into the wall of his bedroom, bowing his head to nose at Stiles neck. His grip on his arm was possessive and Stiles mouth was dry as his body heated up. He didn’t even try to suppress his desire, knowing by the breath against his neck that Derek could smell it.

Derek dropped to his knees in front of him looking up at Stiles expectantly and with shaky hands Stiles undid the button on his pants, and pulled down the zipper, pushing his jeans off his hips. His cock was already half hard, had been since Derek had shoved him against the wall of his room. 

Derek’s hands were gentle as he reached for him, tracing the moisture at the tip and Stiles bit his lips. The grip around his cock tightened and Stiles hardened fully. Derek pumped a few times before he leaned forward, breathing against his dick. 

Stiles clenched his hands into fists at his side, choking out “Not that I’m complaining but you do realize you do this anytime I talk to Danny.” Derek’s lips wrapped around him and for a moment Stiles stopped breathing. He closed his eyes because of the sight of Derek swallowing his cock was more than he could handle at the moment.

A tongue traced the vein on the underside of dick and Stiles almost had a holy experience. 

Derek pulled back, taking Stiles ability to think with him and Stiles could swear Derek kissed his dick before he used he pumped his hand on Stiles now very wet dick, before slowly swallowing it back up. Stiles felt Derek’s other hand curl around his hip, the nails that were pressing into his skin helping ground him and he opened his eyes.

Derek was looking up at him, eyes soft. Stiles felt his body shudder, eyes moving from Derek’s to where his lips were stretched around him.

“God I love you.” Stiles let out and Derek smirked as he pulled back and flicked his tongue across his slit. He then swallowed Stiles down, setting a brutal pace as he bobbed on his dick. Stiles focused on the heat surrounding him and the bite of the nails in his skin. When Derek’s grip tightened Stiles went over the edge he had been balancing on, body shaking apart as Derek held onto him. He didn’t pull back, swallowing down Stiles like he was sucking him dry. 

Stiles didn’t even know when his eyes had closed, only knowing that his legs had given out and Derek had caught him. He let Derek manhandle him onto the bed, helping Derek push the rest of his clothes off as he felt Derek’s warm skin against his own.

Finally, settled against his chest Stiles opened his eyes smiling lazily.

His phone buzzed and Derek picked it up, mouth curving as he showed Stiles the text from Danny.

 _What’s he like?_

Danny wasn’t an idiot and Stiles hadn’t exactly hidden the fact that he was seeing someone from him. Before Derek had commandeered his attention Stiles had been telling Danny that he couldn’t come over for a study session because of date night. Stiles snatched it out of his hand, typing out a quick answer as Derek watched over his shoulder.

_The usual. Sarcastic, dark, full of fucked up emotional problems that result in fantastic sexual prowess._

Derek snorted and Stiles elbowed him lightly. He could feel where Derek was hard against his belly. Teasingly he told him “You do know if you keep this up you’re going to give my dick a pavilion reaction to Danny.”

Derek rolled Stiles over on top of him, smiling widely “I’m sure me and my fantastic sexual prowess can handle it.” 

 

**52**

**Link to text chosen:** http://tfl.nu/r4l9

Curled up in the fetal position, as he always is in the dream, Isaac wakes with a start. Peter's been listening to Isaac's heart rate rise over the course of the last twenty minutes, so he knew this was coming. He's sure it's the same dream Isaac has had a hundred times before. They don't talk about it much anymore. It makes Isaac sad and Peter rage.

"Shhh, it's okay, he's not here," Peter whispers. "You're safe."

Isaac trembles beside him. He reeks of fear and sweat. Peter wraps an arm around Isaac's waist, pulls him back against his chest. He always struggles to keep the rage inside at times like these, to not let the anger bleed through far enough that Isaac can feel it.

"He can't hurt you anymore."

Isaac rubs a hand over his face, wipes away the tears that always come with the dream.

"Once, I recorded the toilet flushing and made it his ringtone to remind myself what a piece of shit he was," he whispers.

This is new. Peter takes a deep breath. "Very creative."

Mr. Lahey is lucky he's dead. Death is peaceful. Peter knows. Lahey didn't deserve death. Jackson's a little shit, so Peter won't ever thank him out loud, but he owes Jackson a debt. Maybe not of gratitude, but he'll think of something eventually.

"He _was_ a piece of shit and you didn't deserve anything he did to you."

Isaac sniffles. "I was never good enough for him. Maybe if I'd been better..."

They've had this conversation as many times as Issac's had the dreams. Deep down, Isaac knows it's not a reflection on him—he must—but in the dead of night sometimes their demons get the better of them.

"I'm better now, right?"

Peter rolls him over to face him, pulling Isaac in close and resting a hand on his neck. Isaac's pulse races under his palm.

"My sweet boy," he says, "you're perfect."

Peter feels the tension break. Isaac climbs on top of him, straddling his lap. "Let me be good for you. Please. Let me show you how good I am."

He's not taking advantage, he swears. One might think it started that way at least, but they'd be wrong. People thrive on positive reinforcement.

He can't help but smirk at the thought.

Isaac tears through Peter's briefs with sharp claws and buries his nose in Peter's crotch, inhaling. Even hours later, Peter knows it still smells like them.

He takes Peter's cock in hand and licks, swirling his tongue with a flourish at the top. When Isaac goes back down, he holds Peter's cock out of the way and draws Peter's balls into his mouth, sucking hard.

Isaac looks up at him, his expression a silent plea for approval.

Peter runs clawed fingers through Isaac's hair, guiding him, encouraging him. Never let it be said that Peter doesn't reward good behavior.

"Good boy," he says. 

Isaac whimpers and his eyes fall shut. Peter can feel the drool pooling around his balls.

After a while, he moves to Peter's cock, taking it down slowly. Peter props his head up on one arm, leaving the other comfortably tangled in Isaac's hair.

The view before him is sinful: Isaac's gorgeous blue eyes looking up at him through long lashes, his plump, pink lips wrapped around Peter's cock, glistening with saliva as they work up and down.

With every pass, Isaac takes him in deeper until Peter can feel the press of Isaac's throat around the head of his cock. The hot, wet, frictionless suction is enough to make his stomach clench and his balls tingle. The boy is always so eager to please. Peter's not complaining.

Isaac takes a deep breath through his nose and even though Peter _knows_ what's coming, it still wrenches a groan out of him when Isaac swallows— _repeatedly_ —around the head of his dick.

When Isaac combines those swallowing sucks with a hand around Peter's balls, it's finally too much. His toes curl and his hips jerk off the bed as he comes with a growl into Isaac's perfect mouth.

Isaac swallows it down greedily, nursing on Peter's cock until it's over-sensitive and well spent. Peter pulls him back up the bed and reaches for Isaac's cock.

"Such a good boy. Let me help you."

Isaac curls up half on Peter's chest and shakes his head, fully relaxed and half asleep already. "Later. Just needed you."

**53**

**Link to text chosen:** http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-16896.html

_My mom just asked me if I was gay in front of my gf._

_What’d Allison say to that?_

 

Allison plucks the phone from Scott’s fingertips. “No texting now. We’re busy. And _you_ are wearing too many clothes.” She drops it, the fall cushioned by a pile of clothes that have already been discarded.

Scott wastes no time getting naked, two pairs of hands helping him yank his shirt over his head and push his jeans and boxers down. Allison and Isaac shove him onto the bed. She perches over his face, her hands gripping the headboard as she lowers herself to where his tongue can dart out and taste her.

His hips jerk up, dick thrusting into the warmth of Isaac’s mouth. Scott groans, one hand on Allison’s hip, his tongue gliding against her slick slit. His other hand slides down, finds curly hair and twists it, holding Isaac in place as he tilts his hips again.

He tries to be gentle, to wait for Isaac to be ready for his thrust, but he can’t resist. He hears the faint sound of choking, then that _feeling_ as Isaac relaxes his throat and Scott slides into the tight channel. It’s almost too much; Isaac circles his dick with his fingers, squeezing tightly and holding off Scott’s orgasm.

Something buzzes—Scott’s phone is muffled by the pile of clothes. 

“Stiles—”

Isaac smacks his thigh. “Do _not_ say his name again while I’m sucking you or I will make sure you don’t get off until you’re home with your hand.”

Oh _hell_ no. Scott pushes himself up, sliding Allison down his body until her hips match with his. She is sandwiched between him and Isaac, all of them reaching for each other, not caring who kisses who and what skin is caressed. 

Allison shifts her hips, letting Scott slip inside of her. She grinds down on him and he arches up, pressing into her warmth. “Fuck.”

“Is that what you want?” Isaac smirks at him, hands pinching Allison’s nipples, then sliding down over her hips to Scott’s thighs. He pushes his legs wide, tugging and rearranging to expose him. “Take it slow, Allison. I don’t want him to finish until I’m inside him.”

The phone buzzes again, the sound somehow angry.

“Shut up, Stiles.” Allison’s words are breathy. Scott laughs, silencing her with a kiss. He doesn’t care about Stiles anymore, not when he’s thrusting slowly into Allison and Isaac is pressing a slick finger into his ass.

He loves this feeling of being between them, of having them both. Knowing that nothing really matters; they fit together in so many different combinations. Three is so much more than two plus one… more than he ever could have expected.

Two fingers slide into Scott’s ass and he moans in response, the sound swallowed by Allison’s mouth. “Do it,” Scott manages to say. “Just do it.” He’s a werewolf; if it hurts, he’ll heal. He _wants_ it, wants the three of them to be as close as they can be.

It’s always just a little awkward, finding the right angles as Isaac presses into Scott, holding onto both of them. But once it’s done—once they all start to move—they find their rhythm like they were born to it. Like they were meant to be together just like _this_.

Allison slides down as Scott presses up. Isaac thrusts into him, pushing him further into Allison. Scott lets himself fall into the ebb and flow, thrust and retreat, slip and slide and oh _fuck_ he is so close. He reaches out, gripping skin with his fingers, pressing tightly as he loses control.

Allison gasps, shudders around him and moans Isaac’s name; Isaac stiffens and spills inside of Scott.

They come back to reality slowly, piled in a tangle of limbs atop the sheets.

The phone buzzes again and Allison leans over Scott and Isaac to get it. “I’ll text him back,” she offers, and Scott lets her. Her, him, Isaac… he’s not sure it matters who’s who right about now. He snuggles between them both and closes his eyes as she taps out an answer on his phone.

 

_Dude! You haven’t answered yet!_

 

_DUDE!!!! Did Allison find out about that thing with you and Isaac? Did you break up? DUDE???_

_Everything’s okay with me and Scott. I told her he’s bi and we had to go because Isaac was waiting naked for us._

_Allison?_

_I wasn’t lying. G’night, Stiles._

**54**

**Link to text chosen:**[(613): The fact that you think I have a life is so flattering to me.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49110.html) and [(317): Yeah, but he has adorable dimples and dimples talk me into things.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49090.html)

****

Danny (18:03:44): i know it’s late notice, but are you busy tonight?

Stiles (18:04:56): the fact that you think i have a life is so flattering to me

Danny (18:06:04): my parents are out, you should come over :)

****

Stiles (18:08:32): sorry dude gotta bail on tonight

Scott (18:10:03): are you ditching me for danny you promised you wouldn’t do this again!!!

Stiles (18:11:01): yeah, but he has adorable dimples and dimples talk me into things

****

Danny (20:32:32): are you coming?

Stiles (20:35:40): something urgent came up, i’ll be there in like half an hour? sorry :(

Danny (20:40:45): ok

****

Stiles (20:43:42): i hate you so much

Stiles (20:44:14): i could be having sex right now

Stiles (20:44:55): with a really hot person who wants to have sex with me

Derek (20:49:45): I think you have the wrong number.

Stiles (20:51:01): no i don’t

****

Stiles (21:19:12): danny’s an understanding, forgiving sort of a guy, right?

Jackson (21:21:03): stop texting me stilinski

Stiles (21:22:15): it was just a simple question!

Jackson (21:23:45): i’m not helping you get in danny’s pants

Stiles (21:24:12): too late ;)

Jackson (21:25:00): STOP TEXTING ME STILINSKI

****

Scott (22:58:16): sorry about tonight man

Stiles (22:59:23): not your fault bro

Scott (23:00:52): still. gonna talk to danny?

Stiles (23:03:12): yeah. think he’s getting sick of this though

****

Stiles (23:09:10): i’m sorry :(

Danny (23:20:36): it’s okay

Danny (23:21:12): what happened?

Stiles (23:30:41): family stuff, nothing too serious but i couldn’t really get out of it

Danny (23:43:53): you ever gonna tell me the truth?

Stiles (23:44:15): what do you mean?

Stiles (23:50:27): danny?

Stiles (00:06:19): pick up the phone

Stiles (00:06:25) please

****

“So are we okay?”

“Yeah, we’re okay, Stiles.”

“Because it’s cool if we’re not, I mean, nothing about this situation is really _okay_ , what with all the death and destruction and supernatural creatures roaming around trying to - ”

“We’re okay, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I knew some weird shit was going on, I just didn’t have all the pieces. Don’t know why none of you assholes thought to tell me earlier, though.”

“See, we’re totally not okay.”

“Stiles. I’m not mad at you. Much. I’m madder at Jackson.”

“Awesome, I love it when people are mad at Jackson.”

“Shut up.”

“Also, if it helps, I was thinking about you most of the night.”

“Uh huh.”

“No, really! Between all the running for your life and coming up with awesome plans, there’s a lot of sitting around and waiting. And I spent most of the waiting around time thinking about you.”

“Thinking what about me?”

“Uh. Not really the kind of stuff you say out loud.”

“Stiles.”

“Um. Well, mostly about that freaky awesome thing you do with your tongue, actually.”

“You like that?”

“Oh my god, you did not just say that, are we gonna have phone sex, is that what this is?”

“Hey if you don’t want to, I can go, I have stuff to - ”

“No! No, I wasn’t saying that, I was just. Never mind. Yeah. The tongue thing.”

“You’re the worst at this.”

“It’s my first time.”

“Just - keep going.”

“Are you, um. Hard?”

“You haven’t said anything sexy yet.”

“Hey! Okay, fair enough. Uh. Well. I was also thinking about the way you like it when I’m on top of you, in your lap. It’s awesome when we make out like that, y’know?”

“And you won’t fucking stay still. It only ever takes a couple of minutes before you’re rubbing your ass against my dick.”

“But you’re hard and you’re _right there_ , what else am I supposed to do? And then you put one of those fucking amazing hands on my dick.”

“Fuck, Stiles.”

“I like it when you’re a little rough, too, when you flip us over and start jerking me off, and rubbing off on me...”

“And you always make so much noise, Jesus, Stiles, half the time I have to kiss you just to shut you up, you’re so fucking loud when you come...”

“Oh my god, why the hell aren’t you here we could - ”

“I’m nearly gonna, c’mon Stiles, just - ”

“Shit, okay, after I’ve come, I slick up my hand with my come and start jerking yourself off, and I can’t stop touching you, I don’t wanna stop, except for how I wanna get my mouth on you - ”

“ _Stiles_ \- ”

“Fuck.”

“Mpf.”

“That was awesome.”

“Would’ve been better if you were here.”

“Shit, I know, I’m so - ”

“We’re okay, Stiles.”

“Okay.”

**55**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-355.html

His name is Stiles and he fucks like a sixteen year old on Adderall. They’ve been fuck buddies for three weeks and Derek knows they’ve spent more time fucking then talking. Which is pretty impressive given how much Stiles can talk. 

Derek met him at Splash one night. Stiles was drunk, pretty and loose-limbed grace poured into tight jeans. Derek texted Laura that he wasn’t coming home and not to wait up. He ducked out of Stiles apartment early the next morning, feeling satisfied like a fat, lazy cat after eating a canary. It had been hands down the best fuck of his life. 

Derek kicked himself a day later for not getting Stiles’ number. 

So he went back to Splash the next week and when he saw Stiles dancing with some puppy faced guy with a grin, Derek just walked up, pushed his way into Stiles’ space and kissed the ever living _fuck_ out of him before grabbing his hand and dragging him out, this time to Derek’s apartment. 

He made sure to get Stiles’ number that time. 

God, he loves to fuck Stiles. Stiles _moans_. Stiles _groans_. Stiles fucking _keens_ when Derek pushes into him, unrelenting, without stopping. Stiles begs Derek to go deeper, to go harder. Stiles _loves_ it. Curses and swears, his limbs jerking and flailing as Derek pushes him down harder into the mattress and fucks him. 

“Oh fuck, yes, oh Christ, deeper, please, please,” Stiles pants and Derek presses into Stiles’ heat and Stiles arches his back so prettily, his cheeks becoming two firm globes from the angle he’s forced into. Derek squeezes the globes of Stiles’ ass and Stiles writhes underneath him. 

“I love your ass,” Derek breathes, bending over Stiles to bite at the meat of his shoulder, the tendon and muscle that turn into his neck. Stiles cants his head back further giving Derek more access. 

“Oh god, bite me, bite me hard,” Stiles pleads. 

Derek does, biting down into the flesh of Stiles’ shoulder, worrying the skin between his teeth, all the while thrusting deep and hard into Stiles’ ass. Stiles whines and comes with a shout, body spasming underneath Derek. Derek drops his weight on top of Stiles, forcing himself deeper, knowing it must hurt so _good_ while Stiles is still over-sensitive from coming. He keeps fucking Stiles like a metronome - even pace, steady beat, punishing thrusts. Stiles gets hard again in minutes. 

God bless 21 year olds. 

“Oh god, Derek, _Derek_.” His voice is thin and breathy, on the edge. 

Derek thrusts in deep. “Yeah, yeah, fuck yeah,” Derek curses, pistoning into Stiles. Stiles comes again with a yelp this time and Derek fucks into him a couple times more and then presses in hard and deep, pulling Stiles’ hips in closer, bruising the skin. 

After Derek cleans them up, and Stiles has passed out, Derek spies his phone on the floor, light flashing with a text. 

From Laura: niiiiiiiiice. I like him. He’s loud. When’s my turn?

From Derek: So is it bad that I'm using this 21 year old for his hot bod and utter naivety?

From Laura: No its what 21 year olds are made for


	8. Group D (no warnings)

**56**

**Link to text chosen:** [(330): i've created a new STD.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49167.html)

[](http://imgur.com/pVCwOpl)

**57**

**Link to text chosen:** http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49138.html

[](http://imgur.com/uiGgIOO)

I'm so glad we both made out with him though. I feel like that really brought us together.

**58**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48643.html

[](http://imgur.com/v8vT7av)

**59**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-47550.html

Stiles has gotten a bit of a reputation for pranking the other people in his dorm. Then they hear his boyfriend's coming for a visit..

From Stiles:  
To the person who put the glitter on my ceiling fan...fuck you

[](http://imgur.com/LnafYMZ)

**60**

**Link to text chosen:** http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49014.html

**Right In The Childhood**

[](http://imgur.com/rLYDYKI)

**61**

**Link to text chosen:** http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-48995.html

[](http://imgur.com/g04IvCV)

**62**

**Link to text chosen** : http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49079.html

[](http://imgur.com/eSkj34m)


End file.
